Rose had to be involved, but whatwasall this? Punishment for loving her?
As soon as Bianca disappeared, Candy Albright marched toward him with martial intensity, her horn-rimmed glasses gleaming under the fluorescent lights.
“I’m coming foryou, Martin Krause,” she boomed.
Yes, Rose clearly did want him dead, although he wasn’t entirely sure why.
Candy’s echoing pronouncement had prompted the appearance of yet more teacher cell phones, all aimed in his direction.
She paused for effect, then roared, “I’m putting a hit on your heart!”
Wait. Was Candy saying—
Her nose wrinkled, and her voice lowered. “Or, rather, Ms. Owens is. I told her she needed to work on her phrasing, but she insisted the original iteration would have more impact. This is why I teach English, while she languishes in the gutters of history.”
Candy Albright flounced away, but Martin knew better than to relax.
His coworkers’ whispers came to a halt, and their cell phones reemerged when—
Jesus Christ. There was his daughter, clutching two signs with a huge grin on her face. But she didn’t say anything, just entered the cafeteria and stood to the side.
Then, at last, Rose appeared, serene as ever, gliding into the room with her chin high and her heels higher, as if nothing had just occurred.
Only…
Only…
Only she appeared to be wearing a puff-sleeved monstrosity of a gown, black and impeccably fitted but shiny and adorned with a huge bow across her ass. As far as he knew, dresses like that hadn’t been sold in at least twenty years. For good reason.
Her gorgeous hair rippled over her shoulders in odd, sharp angles.
Crimped. She’d crimped it.
From somewhere, she produced a hand-lettered sign, her Sharpied scrawl unmistakable. She held the sign high and let him read it. Let their colleagues record it for posterity with their cell phone cameras. Let potentially everyone in the world with internet access know what question she was asking him.
Will You Make Prom a Night to Remember? In a Non-Titanic Sort of Way?
Arrow-riddled hearts bordered the sign, as well as other doodled hearts with—
Yes, that wasRO + MKwritten inside each of them.
He swallowed back his emotion.
At that point, Bea moved closer and brandished her own signs, one in each fist. “Pick your answer, Dad.”
The first sign featured an image of Jack and Rose—oh, his beloved was so clever—dancing happily down in steerage. The second showed another iconic image from the movie, this one of the famous ship broken in two, vertical and sinking.
Love and dancing or disaster and heartbreak.
His choice.
There was no question. Absolutely no question.
He snatched the appropriate sign from his daughter and held it high.
“Yes.” He held Rose’s gaze and spoke clearly. Proudly. “Yes, I’ll go to prom with you.”
She let out an audible breath, those strong shoulders lowering a fraction beneath her puffy sleeves. Then she opened one hand to reveal a flower. A black calla lily, elegant and gorgeous. Just like her.
