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“Of all the hot sex you’re going to have tonight while I’m busy binge-watching Grey’s.”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?”

“Uh, duh, your three-month anniversary with Batman… at that fancy restaurant in Brooklyn.”

“Oh shit,” I stumble out, checking my diary and instantly noticing the circle around the date. “I completely forgot. The Mackenzie case has been in the forefront of my mind all week. What the hell am I going to wear?”

“That little red number you bought last week, the one that accentuates your ass. And anyway, what’s with you? You’ve been acting weird today.”

I’m slightly taken aback by his comment. Sure, work has been over-the-top busy this week, but nothing I can’t handle. “Weird as in how?”

“As in I need a good bang in my cooch, but even with that big dick inside me, my mind is elsewhere kind of weird.”

“Wow, E, you really like to paint a picture, don’t you?”

“When it involves Batman and his giant dick, I’m all about painting pictures, lots of mental pictures.” He winks, flicking his perfectly styled hair to the side.

“Okay, when did I ever say he had a giant dick?”

“You never denied it…”

“I’ve never confirmed it, either!” I throw a pen at him, laughing, then I continue, “For the record, I’m not commenting on size, but I’m plenty satisfied. Now go, I need to get ready for this date I almost forgot about.”

***

I sense his nervousness. The constant tap of his foot under the table is driving me to distraction, his hands clutching the napkin with a tight grip, turning his knuckles white. His smile is genuine, yet something’s off.

Letting out a sigh, I suspect he’s experiencing the ‘itch.’ The three-month itch. I read about it in an article in Cosmo. Men generally get more comfortable around this time in their relationships. Yet, others get the itch, the itch to change what has become familiar. It’s common, and why should I expect anything different?

Except Julian is different. He’s amazing.

He’s the pin-up boy of the man your daddy wants you to marry. He treats me with respect and kindness, and I love spending time with him when our schedules permit it. I think we’re going somewhere, especially after the exchange of I love you last week.

Placing his hands over mine, he curls his fingers into my own, squeezing them gently, letting out a huge breath before he begins to speak.

“Charlie, you’re the most amazing, beautiful, smart, talented woman I have ever met. The last three months have been nothing short of spectacular. I’ve been thinking a lot about us and where I want to be. I love you, Charlie, but this isn’t enough for me…”

I can feel the bile rising in my throat.

Here it comes.

Opening my mouth, he politely raises his hand, prompting me to keep quiet.

“Charlie, I want you in my life every day. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, the last thing I see when I go to sleep, and between those moments, I want you with me in my dreams.”

Julian drags his chair out, standing before me. Confused, I wait on edge until he gets down on one knee, his eyes staring right into mine as a wave of panic hits my chest.

“Charlie Mason, will you marry me?”

Letting out a loose cough, I almost choke as I hear the words out loud. Marriage? I thought he wanted to break-up! This is in the complete opposite direction.

Struggling to breathe, my heart begins beating unevenly, but so loud I’m sure the whole restaurant can hear. In the space of a few seconds, he produces a small black box, opening it slowly to reveal a sparkling princess-cut diamond.

“But… but…we’ve only been together for three months,” I stutter.

He removes the ring out of the box, delicately placing it between his fingers. “I love you, Charlie. I don’t need any more time to figure that out. You’re the one I’ve been waiting for.”

This moment is beyond overwhelming. I glance around, watching the people who are sitting at the tables on either side of us waiting in anticipation for my reaction. My hands begin shaking as I raise them toward my chest, trying to still the loud thumping inside. The air around us becomes incredibly hot, sweat forming beneath my clothes as the pressure mounts.

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