Ever since you'd popped into Kendall's life, he'd known what true happiness was. And it wasn't the same bullshit as Naomi, not the coke sniffling, champagne drinking, spontaneous sex type of momentary happiness, nah, this shit was pure bliss.

Sooo, as Beyonce once sang, 'he put a ring on it', it was a small wedding, outside of the country to be safe, Paris, in the Versailles Palace, rented out just for you, not even his family had known of you, that's how precious you were too him, far too lovely and kind to be tainted and soured up by his family. Shiv would most likely not take you seriously, given his own history of past relationships, and Roman would make some sarcastic and mean shitty comments about you being questionably innocent and nice to him.

And his father, shit, he didn't even want to think about it. Either way, his work life had begun to slide to his 2nd priority and soon his 3rd, because he wanted a family, making that his second, you his first and Waystar, third in the list. Because work would always be there, and before you it seemed like he was nowhere close to becoming CEO, which he once obsessed with but now, that new little addiction, was you.

So he planned a little dinner at home, tried cooking it himself, burned it, tried again but did it again, and eventually asked his private chef for help, wagyu steak, 1995 bottle of Italian red wine paired with tiramisu, your favorite, fresh from Italy, the crème de la crème just for you. Since after all, he was about to ask you to possibly and of course if you want, carry his children.

So, he sat you down, table adorned with peonies and tall, black, classy candles, making the whole table look pretty for you, pouring you wine, bringing you your plate, talking about your day and eventually and partly nervously since he didn't even know how to bring it up...

"Can we have a baby?" He blurted out, right when you'd put in a spoonful of tiramisu in your mouth. "Just one if you want...please?"