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“Master, were you even listening to me?” She laughed and the sound of it was so perfect all he could do was smile at her apologetically even though he wasn’t sorry that she’d caught him checking her out.
“You’re highly distracting. I can’t be held responsible for my attention span when I can see how hard your nipples are through that dress. It’s a rule.”
“So if I want your undivided attention when I’m trying to talk to you, I’m going to have to dress like a nun?”
“If that’s your kink, have at it. It doesn’t really do anything for me, but I’m willing to give it a go.”
“Well, I’m glad I wasn’t saying anything important.” She leaned back on the blanket and gazed up at the sky.
“You do realize we could do this more comfortably in the backyard at my place.” He grimaced down at her, feeling the grit through the blanket.
“Being on the roof is romantic. It’s a thing. Everyone knows that.” She glared up at him and shook her head in mock disapproval. “Haven’t you ever watched a romcom?”
“Not on purpose.”
“Snob.”
“Everyone knows that romcom is the broccoli of the cinematic world.”
“I’ll make sure to let Hugh Grant know that as he laughs all the way to the bank.”
Fuck it. He’d royally screwed this up, and there was no getting back on topic now.
He kissed her and dug in his pocket, then put the ring in the valley between her breasts. She pushed up on her elbows and looked down at the ring as it rolled onto her belly. Her eyes rounded.
“I think I’m supposed to have some sort of fancy speech prepared,” he blurted, then grimaced at himself. Everything he could think of to say seemed trite, even though the sentiments were genuine. “I know we’d agreed that this wasn’t going to be a permanent arrangement between us, but I can’t imagine going back to life without you,” he said, feeling ridiculous.
She was frowning and breathing fast, which looked a hell of a lot more like a panic attack than like love.
He plunged on, wishing Hugh Grant were around to give him his lines. Maybe he should have watched a romcom before trying to do this in real life.
“I love you, Juliet. If you’ll marry me, I’ll do my best to deserve you.”
Juliet had closed her hand around the ring and was gripping it so tightly he could see her knuckles whitening. There was a protracted silence that made his heart feel like someone was squeezing it in a fist.
Her answer was no—he didn’t even have to wait for her to open her mouth. He could see it written on her face.
Grimly, he nodded, not sure what to say. He held his hand out for the ring. When she didn’t give it to him, he gently took it from her hand.
Maybe she didn’t even love him—she hadn’t said it yet, and neither had he, but he’d thought they’d grown into an understanding. It had been a lot for him to assume, both that she loved him and that she loved Beau enough to give up on her plans for her life.
She was blinking at him, her mouth open as though she was going to say something, but nothing came out.
“Never mind. This was stupid.”
“It’s not stupid! I was just surprised,” she objected, leaning in and trying to catch his gaze.
How could he have been such an idiot?
“You’re not interested. It’s fine. I should have talked to you about this first instead of surprising you.”
“My answer is yes.”
He wanted to accept that answer, but it felt too forced. He didn’t want her to accept if she wasn’t sure.
“It wasn’t your first inclination, and I don’t want a hesitant yes,” he said, feeling like an ass. Nothing like a little humiliation to keep a man humble.
“You just surprised me. We hadn’t even said the L word yet—I had no idea you were even considering this. I mean, we’re almost living together, but I wasn’t expecting this just yet.”
