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“Okay.” His eyes dance. “Now that I’ve broken the ice—in the absolute worst possible way—are you ready for the real thing?”
I suck in a breath, hold it for a second, then blow out all the nerves I’ve been holding in. “I don’t know. But let’s do this anyway. Whateverthisis.”
Slowly, tenderly, he slips the blindfold up over my eyes again. “I still want it to be a surprise,” he whispers.
“Me too.”
So we drive back where we came from. Onto and off the highway. When the truck finally stops again, I know exactly where we are. Even with the blindfold on.
I flashback to the night of the gala, the two of us holding hands, running around together. Through the parking lot. Across the library. On the dance floor. Meant to be.
Spencer hops out of the truck and runs around to open my door, and I slip out, smoothing down my skirt. He pulls off the blindfold, and I fluff my hair. He presses a soft kiss on my forehead.
“You’re already the most beautiful woman in the world,” he says. “Even though you didn’t get a manicure.”
“Ha!” I’m giddy when he takes my hand and guides me around the back of the building. Then he swipes a card and we’re through the employee entrance, heading straight for the break room.
“This is against the rules,” I say.
“Haven’t you heard?” He squeezes my hand. “I’m a rebel now.” When we reach the door to the break room he pauses. “I also paid everyone twenty bucks to be somewhere else for the rest of the night.”
As we step inside, I expect the space to look familiar. Tired couch. Worn carpet. Old refrigerator humming in the corner. Instead, every table has a different colored cloth, and a different colorful bouquet. Peonies. Lotus blossoms. Orchids. Lilies. Daisies. Nothing matches. It’s a riot of blooms and fabric.
I take the scene in slowly, then notice the table in the center. It’s got two sets of chopsticks. Two water glasses. Two napkins. Two plates of lasagna cut into cubes.
I turn to Spencer, and he smiles. “Not everything has to be the same all the time,” he says. “But the right pairing is good too.”
He pulls out a chair for me, and I sit.
Then he drops to a knee.
I swallow hard. “If you pull out a tattoo needle right now …”
He takes my hand. “No tattoos.”
“Did you hide a ring inside a fortune cookie?”
His lip quirks. “Stop trying to guess my proposal.”
I nod. “Sorry.”
“Tess McCoy,” he begins, and his Adam’s apple dips.
Oh wow.Thisreally is it.
“I’ve been thinking for a very long time of just the right thing to say to you in this moment. I wrote down a lot of versions. I even memorized a few. You’re totally shocked by that, right?”
“Totally.” I giggle with nerves, and tears sting my eyes.
“Then I threw all the scripts out and decided to speak without a plan.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Super spontaneous Spencer.”
He nods. “Because I trust you.”
“Me?”
Another nod. “I trust your love for me. Andoh man, do I ever trust my love for you.” He squeezes my hand again, as tears leak freely down my face. “I trust that whatever I say will be exactly what you need to hear. So now this is me, on my knee, reaching all the way into my heart.”
