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“No, I’m okay, thank you.”
“So tell me about this diplomatic mission you’ve been saddled with.”
Elliot hopped up into one of the stools, her feet swinging freely. “You've missed the last two brunch dates,” she said sadly. “And they seem to think you’ll listen if I came to invite you personally.”
I scoffed, just a little amused. “I can’t say my friends don’t know me.” I sighed.
Elliot’s eyes lit up. “So you’ll come?”
“Of course I will,” I joked. “You know you’re my favorite.”
“Thank God, because Reid promised to resort to some really questionable things if I failed.”
“Don’t take her too seriously,” I noted. “She's only ever half serious.”
Elliot leveled a dead stare at me. “That is still terrifying.”
As promised, I attended brunch the next day, steeling myself for the inevitable lecture I’d get from my friends. The only compromise was that we agreed to meet at the restaurant Frankie had taken me to.
Elliot was already there, alone at our reserved table, her bottom lip secured between her teeth.
“Thank God you’re here early,” she whined as soon as her eyes landed on me. She hopped out of her seat and pulled me into a hug.
“Everything okay?” I asked her, rubbing her back soothingly.
Her heart thrashed inside her chest, hard enough that I felt it beating against mine. “I need to talk to you about something before Cam gets here,” she said, her eyes wide. “Or any of the others, really.”
“Go ahead.”
She sat in the seat next to mine and dragged in a deep breath. “I wanna propose to Cam,” she said in one quick exhale.
It took all of five seconds for what she’d said to register before my heart lurched and I grabbed her face in excitement. “You do?”
She nodded, her cheeks turning pink in my palms.
“She’s going to cry.” I chuckled wetly.
“You think so?”
I let go and grabbed her hands. “Are you kidding? She’ll fall apart the moment you ask her,” I told her. “When are you planning on proposing?”
“Okay, don’t judge but I’ve kind of had everything planned out for… a long time.”
I laughed becauseof courseshe’d planned it all out already. It was Elliot.
“Well? Spill!” I urged her, excitement fluttering in my chest.
“Okay, so you know she loves that one art gallery, right?”
“She lovesallof them.” I laughed. “But go on.”
“I’ve been trying my hand at painting,” she explained. “I’m no good at it, but I- don’t laugh, I painted her something. And I asked the curator for a favor. I’m gonna take her there and propose in front of the painting.”
My chest squeezed so tightly that I worried I wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“What do you think?” she asked nervously.
“You’re so fucking cheesy,” I whined, overwhelmed. “I said she was gonna cry before, but now? Jesus, Elliot, she might just have a full blown breakdown in public. Have you always been this romantic?”
