“You’refidgeting.”
I freeze, my hand halfway to my pocket—the pocket containing a small velvet box that’s been burning a hole there all day. Molly’s watching me in the mirror while she applies mascara, one eye done, the other bare, and even like that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
We’ve been living together for months now, ever since I decided to sublet my place and officially move in across the hall. Making thisourplace.
Though, truthfully, I haven’t left since February 14th of last year…
“I’m not fidgeting,” I lie.
“You are.” She caps the mascara and turns to face me, tilting her head. “You’ve checked your phone six times in the last ten minutes, you keep touching your pocket, and you’ve been weirdly quiet all day. What’s going on?”
Shit. I’ve been trying so hard to act normal, but apparently, I’m terrible at it.
“Nothing,” I say, which is possibly the least convincing thing I’ve ever said. In my defense, I’ve never proposed before—and I never imagined I’d be doing it on Valentine’s Day of all days. A year ago, I hated this holiday with every fiber of my being. Now? It’s the anniversary of the best night of my life.
The night I gother.
Best Valentine’s Day ever.
Well. Second best.
Tonight’s about to take the top spot.
“I’m fine,” I insist, crossing to her and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Promise.” My hand drifts to my pocket again before I can stop it.
She notices, but before she can call me out, her phone buzzes on the dresser.
“That’s probably Danny asking where we are,” she says, pulling away to check. “He texted me three times already to make sure we’re coming.”
I know. I asked him to. I needed to be sure she wouldn’t suspect anything when I suggested we head down right at seven.
“We should go,” I say, maybe too quickly.
She gives me another curious glance but nods, grabbing the beige cardigan she bought specifically for tonight. It’s got little pink hearts embroidered on it. She tugs it on, pairing it with hertight, pink skirt and blouse. A year ago, I would have rolled my eyes at the mesh of hearts and pink. Now? It’s simplyher.
And everything about her is perfect.
I’m so far gone it’s not even funny.
We step into the hallway, and my heart hammers in my chest.This is it. The ring’s in my pocket, Danny’s got the elevator set up, and in about sixty seconds, I’m either going to be engaged or fucked beyond repair.
“You okay?” Molly asks as we approach the elevator. “You look pale.”
“Fine,” I manage. “Just, uh, hungry.”
She laughs. “You’re always hungry.”
I hit the button, and while we wait, I catch myself checking my pocket again. The box is still there. Obviously. It’s not like it’s going to disappear.
The elevator arrives with its familiar ding, and the doors slide open.
Molly gasps.
The entire elevator is transformed. Exactly how I imagined when I asked for Danny’s help.
Red and pink streamers hang from the ceiling in cascading waves. Paper hearts—hundredsof them—are taped to every surface. Twinkle lights are strung along the edges, casting a soft, romantic glow. And in the corner, a small speaker plays music, something instrumental and sweet.
It looks exactly like the rec room did last year. Danny’s tackiest, most excessive Valentine’s decorations.
