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She pauses. “You couldn’t tell them convincingly . . . or fake-propose to me convincingly?”
“I couldn’t fake-propose convincingly. I’ve never once imagined myself proposing to someone. Never once imagined myself even wanting to get married. I think I’d stumble through it, red-faced and stammering, and wind up doing more harm than good.”
Laila’s chest heaves. “You don’t think you could do it convincingly for a quarter million bucks? That’s a lot of money, especially when you’re already paying half your salary to me.”
“We’ve agreed not to talk about the money anymore, remember?”
“No, you asked me not to talk about it. But I never said I wouldn’t.”
“I’m over it, Laila. You negotiated for an equal partnership, fair and square. And that’s exactly what we are.”
Boom.
For some reason, saying those words out loud—acknowledging the now-obvious fact that Laila and I truly are an equal partnership—makes me think maybe I could convincingly perform a fake proposal in the finale, after all. Not for the money, as Laila’s suggested. But because Mimi would be thrilled to see it. That’s all she’s ever wanted for me—to see me settle down with a woman who loves me for me. So, why not give my grandmother all the bells and whistles, and also save Laila’s job on the show while I’m at it? I think, up until now, I’ve been dismissing the idea of ambushing Laila with an on-air proposal, partly because I was scared she’d turn me down on national TV. Talk about public humiliation. And by the same token, I didn’t want to risk ambushing Laila and having her say yes to me on national TV . . . only to find out afterwards the proposal wasn’t real—that it was made by me, solely in exchange for a quarter-million bucks.
As if reading my mind, Laila says, “Now that you’ve told me about the bonus provision in your contract, I don’t see why you wouldn’t do it. Why not take their money? I promise I’ll act totally surprised when you kneel down and ask me. I’ll make this face.” She gasps, widens her eyes, and brings a shaky hand to her mouth, like she’s a newly minted beauty queen who’s just heard the good news. In a heartbeat, she drops the beauty queen act, and flashes a mischievous smile. “Pretty convincing, huh?”
“Masterful,” I concede.
“So . . .? I’d be thrilled for you to get a little extra money out of this gig, after I’ve taken half your salary. All I ask is that you give me a heads up the day before you ‘propose,’ to confirm you’re going ahead with it, so I can warn my mom and sister it’s coming. If they saw you pop the question on TV, without me telling them the real deal beforehand, they’d crap their panties with excitement, and I wouldn’t want to do that to them. Telling them after the fact it was all a money grab would break their poor little hearts.”
Fuck. My heart squeezes. In a flash, I have the preposterous impulse to propose to Laila for real. It’s a stupid thought and I chastise myself for having it the moment I do. I’m not husband material, any more than I’m boyfriend material. But, man, it would be fun to give the Fitzgerald women that kind of thrill. A happily ever after, after all the shit they’ve been through with Laila’s father.
“It’s okay,” Laila says, apparently reacting to my facial expression. “I’m sure the idea of fake-proposing to me gives you hives. It was just an idea to make some money for you and give me an insurance policy. But don’t give it another thought.”
I don’t know what Laila saw on my face to make her say that. Yes, I’m feeling conflicted and confused about the idea of fake-proposing to Laila. But in the end, the thing that doesn’t feel confusing at all is the notion that Mimi would love to see that.
“You know what?” I say. “Now that I’ve told you about the bonus provision in my contract, I think the proposal is probably doable.”
Laila’s blue eyes ignite.
“For Mimi,” I clarify quickly. “Not for the money. More than anything, Mimi wants to see me settle down with the great love of my life, the way she did with her husband, Jasper. If, incidentally, me doing this silly thing for Mimi would also help you, then why wouldn’t I do it?”
Laila’s face is glowing with excitement. “Are you sure?”
My heart is racing. “Pretty sure. Can I have a little time to think about it? My contract says I don’t have to give them advance warning to earn the bonus. The clause states I can decide, right up until the last possible moment. So, maybe, let’s see how things shake down tomorrow with our newfound commitment to being dicks to each other again. If things look like they’re going well for you after that, it’ll be a moot point. But if it looks like you’re still on the chopping block, then I can always swoop in and make it known that I’m planning to propose in the finale.”
