Page 129 of One to Watch

“I finally get you on a boat, and still no bikini,” he teased. “This is just mean, Bea.”

“You don’t like the dress?”

“No. I love it.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” She grinned—he was downright dashing in a marine-blue suit worn with a crisp white shirt and open collar. She saw he was holding something—a small black glossy box.

“What’s that?” she asked, though she had a feeling she already knew.

“I was done shopping before you were, and I had some time to kill,” Sam explained. “Since you couldn’t stop by the lipstick counter, I figured …”

Bea opened the box and pulled out the tube of Chanel—a rich, vibrant red in shade 104: Passion.

“I hope the name isn’t too on the nose,” Sam said. “I saw it and I thought, Yeah. That’s the one.”

“It’s perfect.” Bea beamed. “You’re perfect.”

“Well,” Sam said, his voice smaller than normal, “maybe you can wear this when you kiss my cheek tomorrow.”

As they danced on the deck of the boat to the music of a string quartet playing classic love songs, Bea felt like she was living the epitome of a Main Squeeze daydream—the place, the dress, and of course, the man. If she was here to find her happy ending, there wasn’t a more perfect one than this. But as she felt the weight of the pennies in her pocket, she thought about Alison’s grandmother’s sixty years of marriage—the long, extraordinary mundanity of a life like that. Not the performance of a fairy-tale finale, of being seen in a relationship, but the reality of actually being in one: the dumb fights and ER visits and thrilling moments you never forget and all the boring, everyday ones in between. Bea knew she wasn’t looking for an ending—not really. She was looking for a beginning.

“Sam,” she said softly, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course, anything.”

“If it had been some other girl here, instead of me, do you think you would have fallen in love with her?”

Sam looked perplexed. “That’s a pretty weird hypothetical.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t phrase that well. I guess what I mean is—we met in this specific place, at these specific times in our lives. For me, I was trying to get over someone.”

“The guy from the other day?”

Bea nodded. “Did you want to talk about that at all?”

“I don’t know,” Sam mumbled. “It’s not really my business.”

“Of course it is.” Bea frowned. “If you’re considering proposing to me tomorrow, you have a right to know what the hell is going on in my life.”

“Are you thinking about a proposal?” Sam’s tone was tentative. “Because … I definitely have been. And this other guy, obviously, I don’t know him, and I don’t know what’s happened between you. But I trust you, Bea. So if you tell me that you and I are good, that’s all I need to hear.”

“You always know the perfect thing to say,” Bea murmured. “And as for a proposal … yeah, I’ve been thinking about it. A lot, actually. That’s kind of what I was trying to ask you about in the first place.”

Sam’s face turned more serious. “What’s on your mind?”

“With everything going on in your life, am I wrong to think that us being together, having a next step, or an anchor point—that that would be a bit of a relief?”

“Are you asking if I would ask you to marry me as an excuse to move out of my parents’ house?”

“No! No, I would never say that. You just seem so certain about us, and I guess I’m trying to get to the bottom of why.”

“Because there’s no way it could be as simple as me being in love with you?”

“I’m not doubting you, Sam,” Bea said quietly.

“It feels like you are.” He took her by the shoulders. “What are you afraid of?”

Bea met his gaze. “I’m afraid that you’re looking for your next chapter, and I’m looking for the whole rest of the book.”