18
Denise - Proposals and Pants-Party Puppets
“WHAT?!?!” Did I hear that right? “Did you just ask me to marry you?”
“Yes?” Ryder is standing in front of me, in my closet, in just his boxers, cringing a little when he answers.
“Was that a question? Are you asking me if you just proposed to me while standing in my closet in your underwear? Correction, standing in my closet, only partly in your underwear.” He’s standing there with his dick and balls popping out over the waistband of his boxers, looking like some kind of upside down bug-eyed pants-party puppet with an enormous nose. I can’t tell if I’m super freaked out that he proposed, or if I just find the circumstances hilarious. I think maybe I want to laugh, but I also want to cry a little, or maybe do both at the same time? I’m not too sure. What I am sure of is that we don’t have time for either of these reactions. We have a party to get to.
But I will definitely need to talk to him about my pregnancy sooner rather than later. It was already going to be a weird enough conversation, considering I couldn’t keep it in my pants. But having sexanda proposal hanging in the air while I tell him? Not exactly how I imagined that conversation would go down.
“Yes?” Ryder says again, while pulling his boxers up to cover his dick properly. “I mean no, I’m not asking you if I proposed. I did. And yes, I am standing here in my underwear. I don’t suppose you’d consider forgetting about it?” Ryder is holding my arms while he looks at me. His eyes go from looking at me to looking at the ceiling to looking like he wants the floor to swallow him whole. He’s adorable, in a ‘crazy person who proposes to a woman the first time he sleeps with her’ kind of way. Imagine what the tabloids would think of Sleeping Dogs’ party boy ladies’ man if they could see him now.
“Look Ryder,” I say, taking a breath. “We need to get ready and get going or we’re going to be late. But after what’s happened here today I think you and I need to talk.”
“Ouch,” he says, dramatically grabbing his chest over his heart. “So that’s a no?”
“That’s a no to forgetting it entirely. But we can forget it for now.” I wish I could remember it forever. I wish I had the luxury of taking it seriously and actually saying yes, regardless of his state of dress during the proposal. But I have to remember that it wouldn’t be fair of me to trap Ryder in this pregnancy with me. That’s not his responsibility. “We can talk about this later. OK?”
“Yeah, that works.” He leans down and kisses me. “Can I take you to the party at least? Since you won’t marry me?” He laughs nervously.
“I’d like that.” I smile, fighting back tears. Fucking pregnancy hormones. Making this so much harder than it needs to be. “Can you give me a few minutes to get myself sorted here?” I ask before quickly turning around so he can’t see my tears.
He just nods and walks out of my closet. I see him pull on his jeans, pick up his shirt and socks, then leave the room. I take a deep breath and fan my eyes to stop the tears before they have the chance to turn my entire face red. I don’t really even know why I’m crying. Because he asked me to marry him? Because he can’t possibly be serious? Or because I really want to say yes but know that I can’t?
Ugh, what a mess this is. I still have to tell Andrew about the baby. How would that even work? He’s always been a little jealous of Ryder. I can only imagine the jealousy he would feel if I tried to be with Ryder while having his baby. It would be better for all of us if I just tell Ryder we can’t continue. Especially for Ryder. I can’t let my own feelings get in the way of what is best for him. It would be selfish of me to let him love me, knowing I have a baby on the way. It’s bad enough that I slept with him, I can’t let him think more is possible.
This baby is my issue to deal with. Not his. I’ll tell him tonight that we can only be friends. No matter how much it hurts me.
* * *
“Wow!” Ryder stands up from the couch when I come into the room. “You look incredible.”
“Thank you.” I’m just wearing a simple black belted dress with red stiletto booties. I’m already getting a tiny baby bump, although it mostly just looks like I’m bloated, and most of my other dresses just weren’t fitting right. But thanks to my expert make-up application skills, you can’t even tell I was bawling my eyes out in the shower less than half an hour ago. “Are we all set?”
He leans over and kisses me, just a quick peck on the lips, but my knees still go weak. Ryder kissing me is enough to make me swoon, like those silly girls in the movies.
“Now I’m ready.” He smiles down at me. How can he look so good when he’s just wearing the same jeans and t-shirt he’s had on since the diner? It should be a crime to be so sexy and distracting. His messy sex hair looks better than if he’d taken the time to style it.
He takes my hand, lacing his fingers with mine, and leads me outside, waiting with me while I lock the deadbolt on the door. He opens his car door to let me in, passing me the seat belt before closing the door and walking around to the other side.
OK, girl. You got this. Tell him the two of you can’t be involved. Explain that it’s best you just be friends. Tell him you never want to have mind-blowing, toe-curling, scream your lungs out sex ever again.
Gah! I will never have good sex again. Damn you, Ryder. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have even known what good sex was.
I shouldn’t have agreed to let him take me to the party. Now I will need to find another way home. I can’t imagine he’ll be too happy with what I have to say. Not after all the amazing sex we had and the fact that he proposed to me not much more than an hour ago.
“Ryder?” I say to get his attention. I can do this. “I think we need to talk about what happened.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, glancing over at me from the corner of his eye.
“I had an amazing time with you today.” I want to make sure he knows that. “And you have made me feel more special, and cared for, than I have in a long time and I just want to thank you for that.”
“But?”
“But, I just think, with so much going on right now, it’s best if we just stay friends.” There, I said it. And it’s hurts so fucking bad.
“What? What do you mean, ‘just stay friends’?” He raises his voice, but he doesn’t sound angry, just surprised. “I may have been jumping the gun a little asking you to marry me, especially considering I was standing there only halfway in my underwear, but I still meant it when I said I love you. I love you, Denise. And I know you feel something more than just friendly feelings toward me.”
