Prologue
RENLEY
“What are you doing?” I ask the man who’s joyfully down on one knee in front of me, a sparkle in his eye and hope in the upturn of his lips.
Dressed impeccably in a bespoke suit, holding out a monstrous engagement ring in a wooden box, is Theodore Williams, properly known as Theo.
British, posh, and delusional…an alarming combination in my opinion.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks, his brown hair curling over his forehead while his clear blue eyes gaze up at me.
“It looks like you’re proposing.”
His curled smile lights up the front yard of my home where he’s firmly planted himself for this momentous occasion. “That would be correct.” Then to my horror, he clears his throat and says, “Riley?—”
My expression falls flat, while his friend, Rupert, whispers, “It’s Renley. Her name is Renley.”
Theo’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, you’re right.” Plastering on that charming smile again, he continues in that posh British accent of his. “Pardon me. Renley Henrietta?—”
“My middle name isnotHenrietta.”
“It’s not?”
“No. It’s not.”
Confusion laces his brow, his nose scrunching up in a cute way. “What is it?”
I fold my arms over my chest. “It’s Lynn.”
“Lynn?” He tests that out for a second. “Renley Lynn…Renley Lynn. Are you sure? Because Lynn doesn’t sound right.”
“I’m positive. It’s Lynn.”
“Well then, my mistake.” Clearing his throat again, he continues. “Renley Lynn Gosling, will you do me the honor?—”
“Gossage.”
His face contorts in confusion. “Huh?”
“My last name is Gossage.”
“Now you’re fucking with me.” He stands up. “It said on your profile that your last name is Gosling. Like Ryan Gosling.”
“No, it didn’t. It said Gossage, like Goose Gossage.”
“Who the hell is Goose Gossage?” he asks.
“This is very romantic,” Rupert says off to the side, looking like he’s watching a tennis match, his head bouncing back and forth.
“Richard Michael Gossage, also known as Goose, was a pitcher for the Yankees.”
“Oh.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t do sports, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, I could tell from the leather tassel on your loafer.”
He glances down at his shoes. “These are Berlutis.”
“That means nothing to me.”
