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She nods and claps her hands together like a little seal.
Ryan passes one of the women the box of doughnuts and she posts herself to his left. Another flanks him on the right.
“What’s going on?” I ask as if the plan is news to me. To be fair, this part is.
Still holding my hand, Ryan pulls me into the center of the sand heart. His expression turns briefly shy, boyish. But then, pulling a half smile, like he remembered his lines, he takes my hand in his and holds it between us.
I sense two of the other women with their phones lifted—one to record and the other to snap photos from different angles.
“Harley, our love story has been complicated,” he says.
“Romantic-iplicated.”
He smiles.
“You are a-dough-rable.” Plucking an old-fashioned doughnut from the box, he holds it in front of me and then passes it to the other woman at his side.
He must remember that’s not my favorite kind.
Next, he takes a glazed one and says, “You are a-glazing.”
I’d been holding back a smile, but now it plays on my lips.
He takes two more doughnuts from the box and says, “Even though we drive each other glazy, I’m dough-nuts about you.”
The women giggle. Swept into the moment, I do too.
“Without you, there’s a hole in my life.” He presents a chocolate doughnut.
For the record, this is far more elaborate than my non-conventional PR patch-up plan.
“Everything I dough, I dough for you. I want to sprinkle you with everything you need and want.” He presents a stack of three sprinkle-topped doughnuts before passing them to his helper. I’m kind of shocked by how creative this dough-posal is. It may be one of a kind.
“Harley, I dough-not want to live another day without you. I’m ready to have a dough-lightful life together.” Two more doughnuts make their way out of the box.
I wrinkle my nose. “As far as puns go, that one was a stretch, but I’m dough-lighted by your creativity.”
Ryan kisses my forehead.
I could nap inside his clean cotton scent.
“Thanks for playing along,” he whispers.
“Of course. I was starting to get jelly of all these fans.”
Ryan chuckles and takes two more doughnuts out of the box, pointer fingers through the center of the doughy rings. “I like you a hole lot. No, I love you a hole lot.”
The women swoon. My heart does too. I’ve never heard anyone outside my immediate family say those words to me, certainly not Ryan. They do something to the flutters inside. They don’t goglazy. Rather, they settle as if finally contented, quietly joyful.
Then I remember this is all a performance and part of the Romance Game. It was my idea, well, except for the puns. He gets five stars for coming up with this on the fly. There is only one doughnut left in the box, making a total of a dozen. It’s a cinnamon sugar. My favorite. He remembered.
“Harley, dough-not break my heart. Please say yes. Will you marry me?”
He lowers to one knee and presents the doughnut as if it were a ring.
I tip my head back with laughter and splay my fingers like it would possibly fit. “I dough-not know what to do with you, Ryan McGregor. But I dough-not say no.”
“So, it’s a yes?” he asks.
