I don’t know. The way you treated me really sucked, to be blunt. It wasn’t the behavior of someone reliable. We can discuss it in Boston.
You want me to propose? I’ll propose right now.
Jesus. I thought being proposed to in a steak house was bad. Being proposed to by text because the guy’s back is against the wall—now there’s an engagement story you’re never going to repeat. When our grandchildren ask, I’d just have to claim I didn’t remember.
I told you how Kelsey was proposed to, right?
Not really. On a trip, I think?
I roll my eyes. I get the fact that Kelsey’s engagement didn’t mean as much to him as it did to me, but the story is so cool he couldn’t possibly forget it, unless he wasn’t listening in the first place.
At the Paris holiday market where they had their first date. Hawk timed it so a sign unfurled just as they reached the top of the Ferris wheel.
Fine, I get it. You don’t want to do this over the phone.
No, I don’t think he does get it. The point is that he doesn’t value me. The point is that he was going to propose with no fanfare whatsoever, at a restaurant where I couldn’t even eat the food, because some part of him thought that marryingtelevision’s Thomas Prescott,MD, PhDwas honor and excitement enough.
I’ve been so outcome-driven for the past couple of years that I told myself it didn’t matter. ThatIdidn’t matter. That it was okay for him to insist we do what he wanted on my birthday, that it was okay for him to treat me like some kind of project and gift me boring books and cooking classes to get me up to speed. He showed so little respect or even genuine care for me, and I accepted it because it would net me what I wanted in the end.
And maybe because I no longer hoped for more than that from anyone else.
No, that’s not my point. You treated proposing to me as if it was just one more thing to check off of the to-do list. And you changed your mind just because Devon Hunt suggested you should.
That’s really not what happened.
It doesn’t matter what happened. We were there a few weeks ago, and now we’ve got to work back to that point. And when we do get there, you can’t treat proposing to me as if you’re doing me a favor. Gotta go.
I turn off my phone to face Kelsey, who is absolutely glowing as she jumps around on the dance floor, holding onto her crown with one hand.
I want to feel the way Kelsey does about her wedding. That it’ll be perfect simply because of who I’m marrying.
I was willing to settle for a lot less, and I guess I’m going to have to, eventually. Because if Elijah was going to suggest this could be more with us, he’d have said it by now.
An hour later we are back on the bus, and Kelsey is yawning while her sorority sisters pour Jägermeister in each other’s mouths, dumping half of it on the floor. We’re not getting our deposit back on this bus, that’s for sure.
“What would turn this around for you?” I ask Kelsey. “You look miserable.”
“I’m sorry,” she says earnestly. “This has been great. So much fun. I just had a super-long day.”
“I know,” I tell her, “but I can’t let you go to bed or the story afterward will be about how incredibly lame you are. We have got to stay awake for at least another hour, so what would please you most? We could find a Waffle House. Your rich fiancé couldprobably arrange for some bougie late-night tour of a museum. Name your price.”
She laughs. “This is even lamer than you were imagining, but what I would really like is just to see Hawk.”
I slap a palm to my face. “Oh my God. You’re the worst.”
She shrugs. “I know! But we’ve barely seen each other the past few days, and I hate that we’re spending all these nights apart when we’re staying under the same roof. I don’t know how long it’s going to take before our time together doesn’t feel stolen. Probably not until Mom moves here and—” She stops herself, suddenly, her eyes wide.
“Wait, is Judy movinghere?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, no, of course not,” she says too quickly. “Just wishful thinking. But anyway, I just miss him.”
“Say no more,” I tell her. “Even if I have to peel a bunch of strippers out of Hawk’s lap, we will find him and ruin his bachelor party as you have requested.”
She laughs, not worried in the least that she is ruining anything. And neither am I. I have never seen a groom as whipped as Hawk. I’m pretty sure she has found the only billionaire alive who won’t trade up once Kelsey has hit the ripe old age of forty-five.
I text Elijah.
Bad news. Your sister has requested that we ruin Hawk’s bachelor party by attending it. She isn’t drinking, and this is the only thing she has asked for. So you can either tell us where you are, or I can track you down and potentially witness something untoward occurring. Your call.
