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She doesn’t answer. One block becomes two and we continue to walk. I let her think it through, sensing Fiona is a think-it-through type of gal.
I myself am I jump-right-in kind of guy, which isn’t always a good thing.
“How’s your feet?” I ask, peering down at Fiona’s new shoes. “We can walk, or we can grab a cab.”
“We have time to spare. Are you—?”
“Don’t ask if I’m sure,” I warn her. “I said I was, so that’s that. It’s up to you now. If this isn’t your dream come true, that’s fine.”
“Is it?” she asks nervously.
“No. But yeah.”
That gets a laugh out of her. “Is that your answer to everything?”
“No. But yeah.” I join in her laughter, squeezing the small hand that rests on my arm.
“Okay.”
I frown at the hesitant tone of her voice, but I don’t want to push her. I get the feeling Fiona can go either way. She could walk away and leave me—what? Heartbroken? Relieved that I dodged an epic mistake? Somewhere in between? But I have to make sure she’s not going to regret it, regret me, in the next few hours.
At least give me a few hours. “That doesn’t sound too sure.”
She stops, looks at me. Studies me like the answer is written on my face. I keep the smile to a minimum because I know how close she is either way, and the smile can be very persuasive.
How can I be so sure when this smart, funny, strong, amazing woman isn’t? Again—maybe that should tell me something.
But then— “I want you,” Fiona says shyly. “This—” She motions between us. “This is something. I’m not sure what, and I definitely didn’t expect it, but it’s something.”
“I knew there was something as soon as I saw you,” I say.
“Really?”
“No,” I admit. Fiona laughs. “You were mean to me at the airport. But I knew pretty soon after.”
She gently slaps my arm. “I wasn’t mean.”
“Were too. You tried to ignore me and I don’t like that. You should remember that.”
“So then I can make sure to ignore you whenever possible,” she says in a haughty voice. “Not that it’s very easy to do,” she adds softly.
“I do my best.” I want to kiss her again, want it so bad, but if I did, conversation would be over. Time for truth telling. “I wasn’t looking for anything but a fun weekend, but there you were,” I confess. “Ready to give me the best night of my life without even realizing it.”
“Best night?” she asks hopefully.
“I will never look at another pair of shoes without thinking of you.”
Fiona rolls her eyes. “Be serious. Please?”
I drop my voice. “Fee, I am so serious about this. I think we should get married. I’m not exactly sure why right now, but I know it’s a good idea. I want to marry you.”
The furrow appears between her eyes, along with the worrying of her lip so I know she’s giving it serious thought. I stay quiet—and try not to touch her too much— and wait.
I stand on the sidewalk outside some bar with a neon sign blinking about beer, and I wait for the rest of my life.
“So…yeah,” she says finally. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” I don’t realize I was holding my breath until I let it out in a rush. Happiness creeps over me, like I’m getting ready to score from third. Almost… So close… One more pitch…
