I pause mid-chew of my pizza. “Head out where?”
“To Spain for a training camp.” His voice is light but a thread of tension runs beneath it. “You remember how I said I’ve been off my game? I need to reset before the season really ramps up.”
“Okay,” I say, slower now. “You mentioned last week that your season ramps up in August? It’s June almost now. How long will you be gone?”
He shrugs. “Few weeks. Maybe a couple of months. Depends.”
I nod, trying to keep my expression neutral. “I get it. I mean, I know how important this is for you. For your career. I just…” I pause, my pulse picking up its pace. “Why does this feel so…final?”
Is he breaking up with me?
He lets out a short, nervous giggle. And I swear, I’ve never heard this man giggle since I’ve known him. “I don’t mean for it to sound like that. Final. Maybe I’m—”
There’s sweat beading at his hairline.
“Croix?”
He drops to his knees, and for a split second, I scan the room to see if anyone else notices. If someone might rush over, concerned he’s having a medical emergency. But no. The cafeteria is a ghost town this time of night.
“Oh God. Croix? Are you okay?!”
His head is bowed, his hands on his thighs like he’s preparing to pray—or pass out—and I’m halfway to checking his pulse when I realize.
He’s not just onaknee.
He’s ontheknee.
And then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box that looks and smells suspiciously like Tiffany’s.
The redheaded kid and his mother reappear, noticing the commotion between us and both reach for their phones, aiming them straight at us. I instinctively turn away, shielding my face. This isnota moment either of us is going to want immortalized on the internet.
“Croix,” I hiss through clenched teeth. “What are you doing?”
His smile is wide and innocent. Hopeful in the most misguided way possible as he holds up the ring. “I’m making thingsserious-serious.”
I blink. Hard. “Croix. You’ve skippedseveralsteps in the journey to serious, don’t you think?”
He frowns, visibly confused. “Like what?”
“Like...oh, I don’t know. Changing our Facebook relationship status? Meeting my father? You do realize he would absolutelylose his Black mindif he found out you were proposing without even asking him first?”
His eyes widen. “Black mind?”
I glance around and realize we’ve got a growing audience now. Someone’s hummingPut a Ring On It.
“Croix,” I grit out, leaning closer, “get up.”
Finally, thank God, he rises, slipping the ring box back into his pocket. I grab his arm firmly and start walking toward my office, leaving the pizza box on the table.
I wasn’t prepared for any of this. Not the passive-aggressive emails from the Board demanding miracles on a skeleton budget held together by tape and prayers. Not the creeping déjà vu thatsomething is missing with the man I’ve been calling mine. And definitely not a public proposal from that same man, in front of a redheaded stranger and a box of half-eaten pizza.
I swipe my badge and open the door to my office with a shaky hand. It’s the first time I’ve ever invited Croix inside, and it may very well be the last.
The door shuts behind us with a soft, final click.
I brace myself, palms flat against my desk as my heart sprints laps in my chest. I don't even want to look at him. But when I do…God. I swear I see tears in his eyes.
“Croix…” My voice comes out uncertain. “What were you thinking? Why would you think a proposal was the next step for us?”
