“So, Penelope, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve been together for a long time. And it’s been great.”
Wait. What was he talking about?
“Which is why,” Sean said, but then he paused and looked over at something behind me.
“Which is why, what?” I asked.
He nodded, and I glanced over my shoulder, but didn’t see anyone. A second later, the server appeared next to our table holding a glass of champagne on a plate. Smiling at me, she set it on the table.
Why was there champagne? We had wine. An entire bottle. Confused, I looked at it like I’d never seen a champagne flute in my life and had no idea what it could possibly be.
“Go ahead,” Sean said.
With my brain swirling in a hundred directions and blood pounding in my ears, I lifted the glass. Suddenly, I realized what was happening. At the bottom of the champagne flute, surrounded by rising bubbles, was a diamond ring.
Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.
My eyes widened and my mouth dropped open. The server moved back and Sean slipped out of his chair, getting down on one knee in front of me.
This can’t be happening.
I watched him as if I were in a dream. There’d been a time when it would have felt like the moment I’d been waiting for. I’d moved in with him assuming it would eventually lead to a proposal. But now? When I’d finally come to terms with what I needed to do? I couldn’t marry him. I was going to leave him.
“Penelope.” He took my hand, and before I could stop him, continued, “Will you marry me?”
It seemed as if the entire restaurant took a collective breath. It was dead silent. Not the tiniest clink of silverware could be heard. We were in a packed restaurant on a Saturday night, sitting right in the middle, and every single eye was on us.
“No.” My voice sounded strange, as if someone else were speaking. It was too matter-of-fact. Too straightforward and emotionless for the sheer destructive force of that one word.
Still on one knee, Sean blinked in confusion. “What?”
I shook my head slowly, sadly, my eyes losing focus. “No.”
An uncomfortable murmur rippled through the restaurant. I had enough presence of mind to feel a little bit bad about that. I took my hand out of Sean’s and held it close to my chest, as if I’d been burned.
“No, Sean. I’m so sorry, but I can’t marry you.”
“Are you kidding me?” he asked.
The server backed away slowly as Sean stood. People averted their eyes as he glanced around. His face flushed, and a vein stuck out on his forehead. For a second, I wondered if he was going to do something outrageous, like flip the table. He’d never been violent, but I’d never seen him look quite that angry.
He took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. Then he smoothed down his shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was even. “Can we talk outside?”
I nodded and stood, grabbing my coat and purse, and followed him out.
The night air was cold. I put my coat back on and tied the belt. Considering what I’d just done, I didn’t know how I could be so calm. But my hands didn’t tremble, and I didn’t feel the least bit anxious or jittery.
“What the hell is going on?” He gestured to the restaurant. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this what I’m supposed to do?”
“Supposed to do? What does that even mean?”
“What you think it means?”
My shoulders slumped. “That you’re comfortable. And you probably figure that’s good enough.”
