AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“A manicure?” I asked, but he was already gone. Then I figured it out. People would be seeing my fingernails if I were showing off a ring. “Florence, I think he’s planning to propose tonight!”
“Yeah, I bet he is,” she said dryly.
I examined my nails. “I don’t think I have time for a manicure.” Holding my hands toward Florence, I asked, “Do I need a manicure? Or can I maybe get by with a quick file and buff?”
She glanced at my hands before gently pushing them away. “You’re fine, and I don’t think you need the manicure for getting the ring slipped on your finger, just for showing it off afterward. You could get the manicure tomorrow. That is, assuming you say yes and will be wearing the ring.”
“Of course I’ll say yes. Why wouldn’t I?”
She stared at me silently for a while, then said, “Just be sure that’s what you want, okay? Think about it long and hard before you go to that dinner, and then don’t let anything that happens sway you. Go with your gut, with your first strong impulse, not with any afterthought that might hit you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? We’ve been talking about getting married for ages. This is only going to formalize it.”
“I just want you to get what you want—what you deserve,” she said, turning away. She looked troubled, with frown lines between her eyes, tension around her mouth, and, if I wasn’t mistaken, tears in her eyes.
“Florence, what is it?” I asked, catching her arm before she could move away from me. “Is there something you know that you aren’t telling me? You haven’t seen him with another woman, or anything like that, have you? I can take it, whatever it is, and I’d rather know now before I make any major decisions.”
As she faced me, Florence seemed to be in real pain—agony, even. She took a deep breath, started to say something, then squeezed her lips shut and shook her head. After a long pause, she said, “I just don’t think he’s good for you. Don’t ask me why I think that, but I do. That’s all. I want you to think for yourself.”
I blinked, taken aback. “Who said I wasn’t thinking for myself? It’s not like he has me under an evil spell, or anything like that.” Then I frowned. “You’ve never liked him, have you? You’ve been against him from the start. But I do like him, and I believe I’m intelligent enough to make my own decisions.”
For the rest of the day, we spoke only enough to get our work done, which made for an awkward working environment. It would have been a relief to go downstairs to help award the prizes to the treasure hunt winners, but that meant facing Owen. I kept a wary distance from him the whole time and tried to avoid looking directly at him. The impression of his attention being unwanted had faded, but being around him gave me that unsettling feeling of teetering on the brink between two realities. When I saw him heading toward me, I escaped upstairs. Even Florence’s iciness was preferable to that.
My shift ended with the end of the contest, and after I’d put away my apron and turned the coffee shop over to the evening crew, I tried to get out of the store without running into Owen, to no avail. He’d been waiting for me and pulled me aside. “What’s wrong, Katie?” he asked, looking so hurt and confused that my heart broke for him for a moment, until I remembered what he’d done.
“You dare to ask that?” I snarled.
“You’re angry because I gave you a promotion without checking with you first? You can turn it down if you don’t want it.”
I remembered that conversation, and in that memory, we’d been acting like friends. I hadn’t seen him as a threat, hadn’t found his attention unwelcome. I’d liked him. My stance on him wavered. “No, that’s not it …” I said vaguely, trying to recapture what the problem was.
“Then what is it? Last night, I thought we had something. I mean, we did magic together. It was the most amazing night of my life. And now you won’t even look at me. Do you have regrets? Not that there was anything to regret. I guess I can see being a little freaked out by the magic. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. I almost thought I’d dreamed it, and with the way you’re acting, maybe I did. Don’t you remember it?”
“Magic …” I whispered as images sprang to mind. Sparks and snowflakes danced through the air, and I’d felt so alive. But it had just been a dream, hadn’t it? The dream had reflected my fears of the power my employer had over me. Then again, he’d also dreamt it. That had to mean it was real, right? Unless maybe his dream was about his power over me and we just happened to use the same imagery in our dreams about the same subject. “I have to go,” I said, pushing past him. “I have a date tonight. With my boyfriend.”
He stepped out of the way, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay. If that’s the way you want it, I can understand. It’s up to you. I’d just thought … I’d hoped …” He shook his head. “I thought you were different.” Then he walked away before I could make my own dramatic exit.
I should have been happy to have an end to that particular dilemma, but my heart was heavy as I headed home to get ready for my big date. At the end of this evening, I’d be engaged. This was what I’d wanted for so long. Once we were married, I wouldn’t have to work in the store anymore. I’d be free.
Funny, that wasn’t supposed to leave me weighted down with gloom.
*
That evening, I was dressed up in my best little black dress and high heels with my hair up and my nails buffed when Josh came to pick me up for dinner. He wore a tuxedo and had yet another bouquet of flowers for me, this time red roses. I had that same burst of love for him when I saw him that’d I’d had on the stairs that morning, and all the gloom dissipated. I loved him and wanted to marry him. That was the only thing I’d ever wanted. I threw my arms around him and kissed him.
“Well, that’s more like it,” he said, and I got the strangest feeling he was talking more to himself than to me.
A cab waited for us at the curb and whisked us off to a fancy, romantic restaurant. This was the kind of proposal I’d hoped for when he’d made the first offhand remark about getting married. It had all the right ingredients, right out of a diamond commercial. I wondered when the big moment would come. Probably with dessert, I decided. That seemed to be the traditional way of doing it. Would he just get out the ring and kneel, or had he set up some fancy presentation where the ring would be in a piece of cake or a glass of champagne? I could barely focus on the meal from thinking about what was to come.
But then as the meal wore on, my enthusiasm gradually waned, even though we were surrounded by soft music and candlelight. I found myself looking across the table at him and getting that old feeling that I was looking at a stranger. I’d forgotten about that in all the excitement. Had I been excited about him proposing, or was it just excitement from being proposed to? Was this what Florence had meant about trusting my gut, focusing on my feelings instead of on the situation? It was so confusing, like I was feeling two completely opposite things at the same time. How could I be madly in love with Josh and wanting to marry him while still thinking of him as a stranger I didn’t particularly like?
I remembered other things as the evening continued. Just before that moment when he’d rescued me on the stairs, there had been something I was upset about, and it had to do with Josh, not Owen. I hadn’t been fleeing up the stairs from Owen, I’d been fleeing down the stairs from Josh after hearing him talk to Florence. She’d said something about Mr. Wrong and Mr. Right, and she’d been talking like these were roles we were all playing.
Then I realized what all this reminded me of: that movie Florence had selected for us to watch. There was the safe guy and the right guy, but the safe guy wasn’t even truly safe. He was someone to settle on, but there were warning signs and red flags about what life would be like with him. A marriage with him might not be bad, but the heroine could never really be herself while she was with him. There would always be a part of herself she’d have to deny, and that would be tragic. Choosing the right guy might feel risky, but the payoff would be huge.
The waiter brought out a small cake with sparklers on it, and the sparklers triggered another memory, of sparks dancing in the air as Owen and I ran through the bookstore. The memory was just as vivid as these sparklers in front of me. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been real. I’d wanted to kiss Owen after that, more than I’d ever wanted to kiss Josh—or anyone else. He wasn’t Mr. Wrong, the skeevy boss who could help my career at the cost of my soul. He was Mr. Right. I could have magic, so why settle for less?
o;Then what is it? Last night, I thought we had something. I mean, we did magic together. It was the most amazing night of my life. And now you won’t even look at me. Do you have regrets? Not that there was anything to regret. I guess I can see being a little freaked out by the magic. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. I almost thought I’d dreamed it, and with the way you’re acting, maybe I did. Don’t you remember it?”
