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Will startled in his seat, shuddering, like the idea of falling for my younger sister who was always bugging us growing up would be totally crazy of him. Which it obviously would be. And even though there was absolutely no part of me that felt like that about Shelby, learning that she felt that way about me was enough of a bucket of cold water to keep me from exploring anything like that again.
“Okay, I get what you’re saying. I do. But listen, do me a favor, okay?”
I flicked my eyes over to him before looking back at the long road ahead of us. “What?”
“Give her an out.”
“What?”
“Right before you propose, give Roxy an out. See if she takes it.”
My stomach turned and I scrunched my face up as I looked at my friend. “Seriously? That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Why? If she doesn’t take it, you’re good to move forward. But if she does, you’ll be saving yourself from public humiliation by her rejection at the end of that flash dance.”
“Flash mob.”
“Whatever.”
Silence fell over us then as I thought about his suggestion. Did I really want to do that? On the one hand, obviously, there shouldn’t be any risk there if I was really sure about marrying Roxy. I could give her an out and be confident she wouldn’t take it, then I’d proceed with the plan and live happily ever after.
But on the other hand, I wasn’t actually convinced she wouldn’t take the out. And that sucked. But maybe it was regular old cold feet and didn’t mean more than that. Guaranteed a lot of guys were nervous before they proposed. And much like being self-conscious about my looks, this, too, wasn’t a topic I felt comfortable discussing with Will. He’d probably avoid this inner turmoil by never getting engaged, so his advice would need to be taken with a grain of salt.
Sighing, I scratched my head. “All right. I’ll give her an out over dinner. But I’m telling you, this is a crazy idea.”
“The idea of being tied down to one woman for the rest of your life is crazy if you ask me.”
“Again, I didn’t,” I said, this time with a chuckle.
Pulling my phone out, I navigated to my messaging app and drafted up a text to Shelby.
Me: Hey, we need some kind of Bat-Signal for later.
Shelby: What do you mean?
Me: You know, like, some kind of signal that the flash mob is off. Will you be around so if I shine the flashlight on my phone to call it off, you’ll see it?
There was a long pause, then the dots that signaled she was responding showed up and disappeared a few times.
Shelby: Paul, are you really thinking about calling it off?
Me: No. I mean, I will, if I think I need to. I just have a weird feeling, and I want to know there’s an escape plan in case I don’t think I should do it. Can I signal you or not?
Shelby: Yeah, that’s fine. Just say you accidentally pushed the flashlight button on your phone or something. I’ll watch from somewhere.
Me: You gonna hide in the bushes?
Shelby: Shut up. Seriously, Paul, don’t be nervous. This is going to be great. Roxy will be over the moon.
I read and reread her words a dozen times. She was probably right. I was being ridiculous, I was sure. This was going to be great. We’d have a nice dinner, we’d chat about how much we cared about each other, talk about the future like we used to do before I moved back here, and then an over-the-top proposal would just feel like the cherry on top of an amazing night.
* * *
“So, how was your day?” I asked, taking a sip of my red wine. I hated the stuff, but Roxy had ordered a bottle for us to share, so here I was.
“It was good. I taught a few Mommy-and-me classes, had lunch with the girls, then had my high schoolers in the afternoon. They’re gearing up for the spring performance.”
“That’s great,” I replied.
