“Don’t you think?”
He shrugs.
“Don’t you think it’s lonely for him tonight?”
“Lonely?” Sasha says, sounding bewildered.
“Yes. His two best friends ditched the end of dinner to have sex with their girlfriends. He’s the odd man out.”
“I don’t know.” After a beat, Sasha says, “What about a ring?”
“A ring?”
He takes my left hand and sucks on my ring finger. “For this one.”
“Are you asking me something?”
“Yeah.”
I rest my chin on his chest, looking at him. “Then ask.”
“I want you to marry me. Will you?”
“Yes.” I rise up and kiss him. “I love you.”
* * *
Rachel
The next morning it’s warmer than usual, so Zoe and I have breakfast croissants and cinnamon-infused hot cocoa on the patio. We brainstorm ideas for a new musical, and I jot notes in a journal before playing her a bit of what I’m thinking.
“Let’s create our own production company. It can have its own Instagram,” she says. “Pictures of you and me, and behind-the-scenes things. Teasers. Of the guys too, when we go out with them. It could become huge!”
I chew on my pen’s cap and then shrug. “Can you be the one photographed most of the time?”
“Yes, please.”
I laugh, and then nod.
“Okay?”
I nod again.
“Yay!” she says, jumping up and coming around the table to hug me. “And Facebook and Twitter, of course.”
The door opens and Sasha steps out. “Let’s go for a ride,” he says to me.
“Good morning,” Zoe says, twirling flamboyantly back to her seat. “Congratulate us, ‘Vil. We’re going into business.”
“Congratulations,” he says.
I smile when he doesn’t invite her to congratulate us over getting engaged or planning to build a house.
Zoe waves her hands over her head. “I’m so excited. I thought I’d have to beg and plead for a new Instagram account so soon after your liberation from the Palermo Princess shackles. C!” she calls as he passes the door.
He leans out. “Don’t yell.”
She makes a pouty face, but can’t hold it. Instead she hops up and sashays over to him. “Guess what! I’m going into business with Rachel.”
