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“Why are they taking so long?”
Lex, Ellie, and Hope are supposed to bring Sage by under the pretense of grabbing coffee, but they’re fifteen minutes late.
If those three told her what I’m up to, I’ll never—
My head snaps up when I hear laughing outside. Sage is holding her stomach as her face shines with laughter.
She’s stunning.
I take a deep breath, squeeze the ring box in my pocket, and get into position behind the counter.
Sage’s eyes widen, and then her eyebrows furrow when she walks in and sees me back here. She looks around the dim coffee shop and then back at me.
“What are you doing here?”
I smile, words stuck somewhere between my chest and throat. I’m sure there’s a proper word for that part of the body, but it’s irrelevant. The woman I love is walking toward me without realizing that her friends stayed behind.
I hope she doesn’t think this is stupid.
“Hi, your order will be right up.”
“What order?” She cocks her head and crosses her arms.
Ignoring her, I turn to the coffee machine and press the buttons Elizabeth taught me, but it sputters instead of brewing smoothly.
“Darn,” I whisper and press the button again.
I had a plan. We ran through it like a well-practiced play.
“You’re—“
“I’ve got it,” I cut Sage off, lifting my hand.
My back is to her as I try to figure out how this machine works. My nerves intensify, making my hands quake.
This isn’t going as planned. I’m supposed to brew her coffee, make a heart with the steamed milk, and serve the ring box on the side. Then propose.
I’m NOT supposed to mess this up.
“Tristan.” Sage walks around the counter.
“Wait. Stay on that side. Give me a sec.” I’m panicking. My voice is coming out rough and rude.
“I have no idea what you’re doing, and as cute as it is to watch you try to make that machine work, you’re doing it wrong. Let me help you.”
She ignores my demand to stay put and comes around to stand next to me anyway. So I do what any logical man would do—I drop to my knee and forget the plan.
Sage’s eyes bug out as her hands lift to her mouth.
I yank the ring box from my pocket—not an easy feat since my pants are tighter around my bent leg.
Finally, I open the box and show her the simple diamond ring that reminded me of my Wise Sage the moment I saw it. It has a 1920s art deco vibe.
“Yes,” she spits out.
“What? Oh, no! I need to ask first.”
“I don’t care what you have to say. Well, I do, but YES.”
