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“I have the ice cream. But—what—” Horns sounded behind him and he yelled out the window something he might’ve felt bad about had he been aware of what was coming out of his mouth. “Why are you proposing to me? How can you, when I proposed first?”
“It’s not a proposal so much as a suggestion. Since we’re already engaged and all. You busy this Friday?”
More horns sounded. This time he didn’t bother speaking, just held up his left hand. He’d feel even worse about it later. “We’re going to Vegas.“
As the realization dawned, he started to laugh. Jesus, was he the biggest dummy on earth or what?
“Exactly right. And we’re going to get hitched and start our life of legal sinning. So you might want to get that ice cream back here now, since we have a history of making stuff melt.”
“That wasn’t just a ruse to get me over to the billboard?”
“Hell no. We both know you go scope it out every day. And don’t worry, your shop sign will be back up by the close of business. So take your picture while you can.”
He glanced up once more at the billboard, his throat so tight words were practically an impossibility. But he tried anyway. “Rory—”
“I know.” Somehow he heard her swallow. “Me too. Us too,” she corrected, making him smile even when he couldn’t speak.
Just before she clicked off, his sentimental soon-to-be-wife uttered her final words of love. “Now bring me my ice cream!”
