Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 127: Ryan’s Decision – A Private Proposal, Again

Chapter 127: Ryan’s Decision – A Private Proposal, Again

"Because asking once was never going to be enough."

The mock wedding was over. The lanterns dimmed. The silk runners had been rolled up, and Harold was happily humming while Mei organized gift bags for an event that technically didn’t happen.

But in their hotel suite, everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

Ava toed off her heels and flopped onto the bed with the dramatic sigh of someone emotionally exhausted and mildly betrayed by cherry blossoms. She stared at the ceiling, then at the tiny paper fan labeled "Bride-to-Be" still sticking out of her clutch.

Ryan emerged from the bathroom with a towel slung low around his waist and a toothbrush still in his mouth.

She narrowed her eyes. "You look suspiciously calm for someone who just survived an ambush wedding."

He grinned around the toothbrush and shrugged.

"You knew," she accused, sitting up. "You knew Mei was planning something."

Spitting and rinsing, he walked back into the room. "I had a feeling. But honestly, I thought it’d be a surprise flash mob. Or those drones spelling ’Say Yes’ in the sky."

Ava blinked. "Please don’t give her ideas."

Ryan chuckled, grabbed a shirt, and tossed it over his head before walking over to her side of the bed. He leaned down, kissed her temple, then flopped beside her like they’d just returned from battle. Which, in a way, they had.

"Today was...a lot," Ava muttered.

He nodded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

A beat.

She looked at him. "Are you about to propose again?"

Ryan gave her a look. "Why do you say that like I’m an overplayed Taylor Swift song?"

Ava snorted. "Because you keep showing up with moonlight and perfect timing."

"Maybe that’s just what you deserve," he said softly.

Her breath hitched.

Okay. Damn him.

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow. "Look, I know we’ve joked, and I know Mei steamrolled half the romantic atmosphere by announcing a trial ceremony, complete with RSVP forms."

"Pre-RSVP," Ava corrected dryly.

"But I’m serious," he said, voice quieter now. "Forget the cameras. Forget the panels and the sponsors and Julian’s latest malfunction. I’m asking you."

Ava’s throat went dry.

Ryan reached behind the nightstand and pulled out a small box.

Her eyes widened. "Wait. That’s a real box."

He flipped it open—revealing a ring that wasn’t flashy or extravagant. Just right. A slim rose gold band, with a tiny sakura-shaped diamond set in the center.

"It’s from the shop near Senso-ji," he murmured. "The one we passed on our first day here. You stared at it for a solid ten seconds and then pretended you didn’t."

"You’re disturbingly observant," she whispered.

"I’m yours," he said simply.

He sat up fully now, the box resting on his palm, and looked her dead in the eye.

"No cameras. No press. Just us. Just... this moment." He took a breath. "Ava Lee—will you marry me? In Tokyo. In the spring. Under the trees. With petals in your hair and laughter in your voice. Will you say yes to that?"

Ava’s heart punched the inside of her ribcage. She blinked once. Twice.

Then smacked him with a pillow.

Ryan let out a startled laugh. "What was that for?!"

"For ambushing me again!" she cried. "I was emotionally raw! I’m in pajamas!"

"You love these pajamas."

"They have tiny sushi rolls on them!"

"Exactly." He grinned, scooting closer, catching her pillow mid-swing and tossing it aside. "Nothing says lifelong commitment like matching novelty sleepwear."

She stared at him. At the hopeful softness in his eyes. At the slight tremble in his fingers as he held the ring box, trying to look smooth while absolutely bracing for a dramatic Ava-level deflection.

And she realized something.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t perfect. It didn’t matter that Mei was already designing wedding chopsticks. Or that the world was watching.

What mattered was this.

This man.

This moment.

"I still don’t have it all figured out," she whispered.

Ryan reached for her hand. "That’s fine. I do."

Ava laughed wetly, tears building now, ridiculous and uninvited.

She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. "Okay."

He blinked. "Okay?"

"Yes, okay," she said, voice catching. "Yes to Tokyo. Yes to petals. Yes to you."

Ryan exhaled like he’d been holding that breath for a century. Then, carefully, reverently, he slid the ring onto her finger.

"Looks better on you than the shop window."

Ava sniffed, grinning. "Don’t make me cry more. I already look like a wasabi commercial."

He laughed, tugged her onto his lap, and kissed her soundly. The kind of kiss that tasted like home, like spring, like forever.

Afterward, they lay tangled in each other on the bed, the ring glinting faintly in the lamplight.

"So..." Ava murmured. "Does this mean we actually have to tell Mei?"

Ryan groaned. "No. No we don’t. We lock the door, turn off our phones, and pretend we eloped."

Ava giggled. "She’d hunt us down. With drones."

He smiled, brushing her hair back. "Then let her. As long as I get to keep you."

And as Tokyo glittered beyond the window, Ava curled into his side, finally—finally—saying yes to the life that had been quietly waiting for her all along.

---

They stayed curled up in the tangle of covers, limbs overlapping like they’d forgotten how to function separately. The ring glinted faintly on Ava’s finger as she turned it thoughtfully, half-incredulous, half-warm and gooey with affection.

Ryan’s hand was tracing idle patterns on her bare arm.

"So," he said casually, "what does your dream wedding look like?"

Ava blinked. "My what now?"

He glanced down at her, amused. "Your dream wedding. You know. If you could have anything—penguin ring bearers, a string quartet playing K-pop covers, a ceremony on a hot air balloon—what would it be?"

She squinted. "Why are all your examples unhinged?"

"Because you’ve been emotionally compromised, and I’m seizing the opportunity to discover your secret Pinterest board."

Ava laughed, covering her face. "You really want to know?"

"Of course I do. I want to give it to you."

She lowered her hand and met his gaze. "Even if I say karaoke bar and neon signs?"

Ryan’s eyes lit up. "That’s not a dealbreaker, that’s a theme."

Ava snorted. "Okay. Fine. Truth?" She sat up slightly, pulling the comforter around her shoulders like a cape. "I used to think I wanted a small wedding. Private. Maybe somewhere outdoors, with really good food and no long speeches."

"Reasonable."

"But lately..." She glanced at the balcony, where the Tokyo skyline still shimmered, full of impossible things that somehow kept happening. "Lately, I think I want something fun. A little weird. A little chaotic. With too much color and the kind of playlist that makes people dance like idiots."

Ryan grinned. "You want a party."

"I want our party," she corrected, tapping his chest. "Something that feels like us."

He nodded, warm and thoughtful. "Okay. No swans. No champagne fountains. But possibly a surprise dance battle and a taco truck at midnight?"

Ava pretended to swoon. "You get me."

Then, as the laughter ebbed into quiet, she looked at him again—really looked. At the messy hair, the stubble, the way he hadn’t fully come down from the emotional high of the proposal. He looked content. A little smug.

Too smug.

Her lips curved into something more mischievous.

"Can I tell you a secret?" she asked, voice soft.

"Always."

"I’ve never seen you speechless."

Ryan smirked. "I’m very composed."

"You’re very in control," she amended, shifting until she was straddling him, legs on either side of his hips beneath the sheets.

His breath caught—just slightly. "And what are you doing, Miss Lee?"

"Testing a theory," she said, voice low, as she leaned in and pressed a trail of kisses along his jaw. "That maybe it’s your turn to melt for once."

Ryan swallowed, eyes flickering between amusement and something deeper. "That sounds dangerously appealing."

"Good," she murmured.

Her fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt—one of her shirts he’d stolen months ago and somehow convinced her he looked better in. She kissed his collarbone. Then his chest. Then lower. Each touch more deliberate, more possessive than playful.

Ryan’s hand moved reflexively to her hip. "You’re not playing fair."

Ava gave a wicked smile. "I’m not playing at all."

And with that, she kissed him again—deeper, hungrier. Not the tentative kind. Not the soft ones they exchanged in public. This was something else. Something claiming.

He groaned against her mouth, the kind of sound that made her feel like a goddess and a disaster all at once. And when her hand slipped beneath the sheet—

"Wait," he rasped. "Are you seducing me right now? Post-engagement?"

She grinned. "Is there a rule against it?"

"I don’t know, but I feel deeply unprepared."

"That’s the point."

Ava leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "You always lead. You always know what to say. What to do. But tonight?" Her breath ghosted against his neck. "You’re mine to unravel."

And she did.

Piece by piece.

With teasing hands and whispered wicked things that made him laugh and then gasp and then forget what universe they were in.

By the time she pulled back, smug and flushed, Ryan was an absolute mess—hair mussed, breathing shallow, pupils dilated like she’d rewritten his internal code.

He stared up at her like she was the answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask.

"You’re terrifying," he murmured.

"You love it."

"I really do," he whispered, then tugged her back down into his arms.

They lay together, tangled and satisfied, the room hazy with warmth and whatever spell they kept accidentally casting on each other.

"You know what my dream wedding looks like?" Ryan asked quietly.

Ava yawned. "Is it me in a sushi-print dress riding in on a motorbike?"

"No." He kissed her shoulder. "It’s you. Just you. At the end of the aisle. Looking at me like that."

Ava smiled sleepily. "Like what?"

"Like you already know you’re saying yes."

She kissed him one last time—slow and sleepy. "Because I am."