Our Proposal Story As told by Monique, the Bride Last year, Oneil moved to Atlanta to start his new role at Children’s Hospital of Atlanta. The hospital had just opened a brand-new campus, so naturally, they were hiring a ton of new doctors. Around July or August, Oneil mentioned that there was going to be a gala to celebrate the opening and welcome the new doctors. Totally believable, right? He told me the event would be September 28th, so I started asking the important questions: What’s the dress code? Where is it? Do I need to book makeup? You know — the things men never think about until the last minute. True to form, he didn’t give me the official details until the 11th hour, and every time I brought it up, he would groan and say, “Do we have to go? You know I hate work events outside of work.” Finally, he told me it would be at the Candler Hotel. That made perfect sense — we’d been there for my birthday the previous year, and it was near-ish to the hospital. But when I said, “Oh, you took me to the Candler Hotel before!” he quickly corrected me: “Wrong. I took you to By George, the restaurant inside. Not a hotel.” Still — nothing about this sounded suspicious. The day came. I got my makeup done, put on my dress, and we headed out. On the way, he got a “call” from someone at the hotel saying the event had been moved. (Red flag, in hindsight.) When we arrived, we took a seat in the same little lounge where we had taken pictures for my birthday the year before. I insisted we take a selfie, and then he excused himself to the restroom. While he was gone, I was snapping a few solo shots when a hotel staff member approached us: “I’ll go ahead and escort you upstairs to the event.” We stepped into the elevator, rode up, and walked toward a space I thought would open into a large banquet hall. Instead, we stepped into a small, elegant library. There was a photographer there, and I thought, “Oh wow, they’re taking pictures of everyone coming into the event.” Then I realized… there was no banquet hall. Just the library. I turned around — and there was Oneil on one knee. I was shocked. Laughing and crying at the same time, I said yes. And then I recognized the photographer — someone I’d worked with before and a friend of one of my bridesmaids. Everything was so personal, so thoughtful. After our little library moment, we headed to the restaurant. As soon as we walked in, I heard cheers and screams. Sitting at a big table were my brother (who had flown down from New York), my sister, both of my matrons of honor and their husbands, one of my bridesmaids, and even friends on FaceTime. I had no idea they were all in on it. My sister had left the house earlier, and I thought she’d just run to Target — nope. She was here the whole time. It was even the week of Hurricane Helen, and one of my friends who I thought was stuck in the storm was actually in Atlanta all week helping plan this. The love, the surprises, the planning — I was completely overwhelmed in the best way. I cried (a lot). We laughed. We celebrated. It was the most perfect day.