Matchmaker Mayhem
Chapter 128: The Wedding Tease

Chapter 128: The Wedding Tease

"What do you mean, maybe?"

Ava woke up to the scent of grilled fish, miso, and impending doom.

Specifically: Mei’s version of room service.

She sat up groggily, only to find the sliding doors to their hotel suite wide open and Mei already inside, fluffing pillows like she owned the place. A full traditional Japanese breakfast spread had been set on the table—grilled salmon, tamagoyaki, rice, soup, pickled vegetables, and—

"Are those heart-shaped nori sheets?" Ava croaked.

Mei beamed. "Subtle wedding symbolism."

"Breaking into our room before 8 a.m. is not subtle."

Ryan padded out of the bathroom in sweatpants, blinking at the table. "Is that... a tofu bouquet?"

Mei handed him a cup of green tea. "You’ll need your strength. I’ve drafted a new itinerary."

Ava narrowed her eyes. "For what?"

"For the wedding, of course! I made a vision board. With samples. And Harold booked a floral design consultant for noon. You’re welcome."

Ava blinked slowly. "We haven’t confirmed anything yet."

Mei blinked back. "Then why were you wearing your engagement ring while whispering ’unravel me next time’ in your sleep?"

Ryan choked on his tea.

Ava buried her face in her hands. "You eavesdropped on our private moment?"

"I checked if you were alive!" Mei said defensively. "It’s called grandparental concern."

"Is it also called scheduling a sake tasting for 10 a.m.?" Ryan asked, holding up the itinerary with one brow raised.

"Absolutely," Mei replied, unfazed.

Harold shuffled in behind her, wearing socks with tiny sumo wrestlers and carrying a stack of invitation prototypes. "This one has your names written in cherry blossom calligraphy," he said proudly. "This one lights up!"

Ava took a long sip of miso soup, eyes half-lidded. "You two are like caffeinated wedding goblins."

"We’re invested," Mei said sweetly. "Emotionally. Financially. Spiritually."

Ryan tried not to laugh. Ava could feel it shaking the bed.

Mei tilted her head. "So? When do we announce the date?"

Ava looked at Ryan.

He gave her that quiet, conspiratorial smile. The one that said I’d marry you right here in a bathrobe if you let me.

And Ava... didn’t panic.

Which terrified her slightly.

She took a long breath, placed her bowl down, and stood up—still in her sushi-print pajama shorts, hair a mess, ring glinting in the morning light. She walked to the window, opened the sheer curtain, and looked out at Tokyo’s skyline.

Below, sakura petals floated lazily down a garden path. Somewhere, a couple laughed. A child chased a pigeon. The world moved on, quietly beautiful.

"Maybe," she said finally.

Mei blinked. "Maybe...?"

Ava turned, eyes sparkling. "Maybe we’ll get married in Tokyo. Maybe under the blossoms. Maybe with lanterns and too many flavors of mochi and karaoke at midnight."

Harold perked up. "Karaoke?! I do a mean ’Uptown Funk.’"

Mei pressed a hand to her heart. "You’re saying there’s hope?"

"I’m saying," Ava replied, "that if we’re going to do this, we’re doing it our way. No drone footage. No press releases. No fox-shaped escort cards."

"But the foxes are symbolic—!"

"No." Ava raised a hand. "One wedding. One groom. One slightly terrifying grandmother. That’s the limit."

Ryan stood up beside her, slipping an arm around her waist. "Does that mean it’s a yes?"

Ava leaned into him, lips brushing his jaw.

"Maybe," she whispered. "But it’s a really good maybe."

Mei let out a strangled gasp of triumph.

Harold popped a confetti cannon he’d been hiding in his robe.

Tiny rice-paper sakura exploded over the breakfast table.

Ava didn’t even flinch. She just kissed Ryan again—softly, with that slow-burning affection that promised more than any official announcement ever could.

Because sometimes the answer wasn’t yes or no.

Sometimes it was maybe—said with enough love to make it the only answer that mattered.

---

They should’ve expected it.

The second Ava and Ryan left the breakfast table—escaping with the excuse of needing to "pack"—Mei went into full strategic assault.

"Harold," she said, snapping open a leather-bound planner with tabs color-coded by emotional intensity, "we are officially in Phase Foxfire."

Harold looked up from the confetti mess on the floor. "Which one is that again?"

Mei clicked her pen like a general arming a missile. "The soft-confirmation scramble. We must lock down three venue options, two dress designers, and at least one origami master before Ava changes her mind or escapes to another country."

"Should I call the drone vendor again?" Harold asked.

Mei paused. "No. She said no drones. For now."

Harold nodded solemnly. "Ground-based chaos only."

Mei scribbled a note. "Exactly. We’ll stage everything to look organic. Casual elegance. As if they just stumbled into the perfect ceremony."

"With a synchronized lantern release?"

Mei smiled like a warlord. "Of course."

---

Later...

Back in their suite, Ava sat cross-legged on the bed, suitcase open but very much not packed. Her fingers idly traced the corner of the invitation Harold had left behind—glowing cherry blossoms and all.

Ryan flopped beside her, freshly showered and still damp from towel-drying his hair.

"I just watched your grandmother schedule seven vendors and threaten an onsen receptionist in three languages," he said.

Ava sighed dramatically. "She’s unstoppable. The UN should hire her."

"Too powerful," Ryan murmured, crawling behind her and resting his chin on her shoulder. "You okay?"

Ava leaned back into him. "Yeah. Weirdly, yeah."

"Still a maybe?"

She turned her head slightly, meeting his eyes. "A hopeful maybe."

Ryan kissed the top of her shoulder. "I’ll take it."

They stayed like that for a beat—wrapped in lazy sunlight, the muffled sound of Tokyo outside their window, the ring on Ava’s hand catching the light like a secret promise.

Then Ava asked, "You think she’s actually calling vendors right now?"

"Oh definitely. She’s probably already ordered customized matcha packets with our faces on them."

Ava snorted. "I swear, if she commissions cake toppers of us holding foxes—"

"I’d keep it," Ryan said seriously. "And bring it to every future argument like a totem."

Ava twisted around, pushing him back into the pillows with a laugh. "You’re so annoying."

"You still love me."

She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his mouth—quick and teasing. "Tragically."

He pulled her down again, this time slower. "If loving me is tragic, wait till you see the karaoke duet I plan for the reception."

"Oh god."

"Power ballad, Ava. You can’t stop fate."

She laughed into his chest. And maybe it wasn’t a yes. Not yet. But it was enough.

Because when it came to love?

They were already living the vows.

---

Later That Night – The Private Onsen

The rooftop onsen was reserved for couples. Mei had arranged it, of course—under the guise of "muscle recovery" and "pre-flight hydration."

But when Ava stepped out of the changing room wrapped in only a towel and saw Ryan already in the water, steam curling around his bare shoulders, she knew exactly what Mei’s real plan was.

"She’s terrifying," Ava muttered as she slipped into the water, letting the towel fall just out of reach.

Ryan tilted his head back, eyes glinting through the rising steam. "But effective."

Ava sank beside him with a sigh, letting the heat loosen every knot in her body. The water lapped at her collarbones, the soft scent of hinoki wood and mountain spring herbs filling the air.

For a while, they didn’t speak.

The city lights glittered below the edge of the open-air deck, faint echoes of nightlife buzzing far beneath their quiet bubble of heat and haze. The sky stretched endlessly above them—stars soft, moon low.

Then Ryan shifted, brushing his knuckles down the length of her arm beneath the surface. "Still thinking?"

Ava gave him a sidelong look. "About what?"

"About tomorrow. The flight. The future."

She turned to him slowly, water sliding down the curve of her back. "You know what I’m thinking about?"

He leaned in. "What?"

Her hand moved beneath the surface—sliding over his thigh, slow and deliberate.

Ryan’s breath caught.

Ava smiled, slow and dangerous. "How I’m going to make you forget everything for the next hour."

He raised a brow, cocky but breathless. "Is that a threat?"

"No," she said, voice velvet. "It’s a gift."

She shifted onto his lap, the water rippling around them as her arms looped around his neck. Her mouth found his jaw, tracing down to his throat with teasing kisses.

Ryan groaned. "You’re really going to do this here?"

She kissed just below his ear. "Private onsen. No Mei. No Harold. No itinerary."

His grip on her waist tightened. "God, I love this city."

"You love me," she corrected, rocking her hips just enough to undo him completely.

"I do," he said, voice wrecked. "Every chaotic inch."

Her lips met his—wet, warm, hungry. The kiss deepened, turned messier. She rolled her hips again, and Ryan cursed softly against her mouth.

They moved together in the water—steam curling around them like a secret, the only sounds the soft lapping of water and breathless gasps.

She was slow, deliberate. In control.

Every brush of skin, every graze of her teeth against his bottom lip, every whispered word against his throat was an unspoken declaration: You are mine.

And Ryan didn’t resist. He surrendered.

When they finally came undone—together, trembling and breathless beneath a Tokyo sky—Ava curled against him in the water, her cheek resting against his chest.

For a long time, neither spoke.

Then Ryan whispered, "So... Seoul."

Ava smiled against his skin. "Let’s wreck that city too."

He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Together?"

"Always."

The steam rose higher, the stars hung low, and for one more night in Tokyo, they were just two people in love—warm, tangled, and ready to take on the world.