I shift slightly in my seat, embarrassed by my own arousal, and try to remember what we were talking about.Right, making your partner happy.“I know exactly what she wanted. She works hard, and it’s not easy being in a male-dominated field, even in this day and age. There are still neanderthals challenging her no matter what she says. She just wants tocome home to someone who’s thought about her needs for a change. Who anticipates her every desire and fulfills it without her having to say a word.”
“That’s not very fair toward you,” Euan says.
I blink, not quite sure what he means.
“It’s fine to want the princess treatment, but you aren’t a mind-reader.”
I nod slowly, the motion quickly picking up speed. “Yeah! I’m not! Do you know how long it took me to figure out what kind of sushi she might like? I had to extrapolar—extrapalary—extra … what?” I can’t remember the word. Actually, I can’t remember where I was going with that sentence.
I pick up the cocktail and peer into the glass. Was this one stronger than the others, or is it all catching up to me?Oh well, might as well finish it off.Though that’s easier thought than done. Even after a few gulps, there’s still an inch or two of liquid left in the bottom.
Just as I’m lamenting the lack of alcohol, someone appears next to our booth and yells, “Green Tea shots!” They plop down two shot glasses on the table.
“Dude, I don’t think they’re with our group,” someone says behind them.
“Oh shit, really? Well, I included them in the head count. Drink up!” Then the shot-fairy flutters away to bestow more alcohol upon lucky bar patrons.
Euan picks up his shot glass and clinks it against mine. I certainly won’t complain about a free drink. We tip them back at the same time. It’s sweet and only vaguely resembles green tea.
“’S busy in here,” I say, leaning across Euan to get a better look. The bar was practically empty when we first started drinking. I have no idea when all these people arrived. They’re a sea of bright orange and lime green writhing bodiesstanding between us and the bar.
Euan’s arm around my waist keeps me upright so I don’t fall out of the booth entirely. It feels so nice to be wrapped up in him, I let him hold onto me longer than I should.
When I finally plop back down in my seat, the room spins a little bit. I focus on Euan’s face until the spinning slows down to a reasonable tilt. “Why are you here?” Only after I ask it do I realize the question is kind of rude. If he’s drinking on his own on a Saturday night, he’s probably as unhappy as I am.
His dark brows pinch together, and he slumps down in his seat. For the first time, he looks as drunk as I feel. “My boyfriend dumped me,” he explains, his lips pressing into a surprisingly childish pout. “He dozin like me.”
“I like you,” I tell him, shifting to lay my head on his shoulder.
His head rests against mine. “I like you too,” he mumbles. His jaw-length hair is dark and soft and smells kind of spicy. I inhale deeply. Is it weird to sniff his hair? Probably, but he can’t reallyseeme doing it anyway.
“Why’d he dump you?” Okay, that question is alotruder, but I can’t get my tongue to cooperate to form an apology.
“I dunno,” Euan replies. Then his big body shifts under me. I sway back and forth until I finally end up leaning against the wall. For the first time, it occurs to me that it’s a little odd that we’re sitting on the same side of the booth. That must have happened when he returned with the last drink.
He pulls his phone out and it takes him a few swipes to unlock it.
“Wait, hetextedyou?” I demand, my mouth falling open in an exaggerated gape. “What a dick!”
“Mmhmm. Didn’t even get to touch his dick.”
I laugh, the sound close to a cackle. For some reason, that’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard. After a few seconds, he laughs with me, the sound a deep, delicious chuckle. I want to press my head against his chest so I canfeelit all the way inside me.
As the laughter fades, his expression becomes more serious. “I jus’,” he begins, missing the T. “Wanna matter to someone.”
Don’t we all.I lay my hand on his arm, stroking it in comfort, then get distracted as I admire his firm muscles. I don’t know how long I’ve run my fingers up and down the bulge before I remember what I want to say. “You matter to me,” I tell him. Without him, I would still be drunk, but I wouldn’t be having so muchfun.
He gazes at me for a long moment. My hand continues gently stroking his bicep, but he doesn’t notice. Or maybe he likes it, likes having my hands on him. “Propose to me,” he says. “I want to know how it feels.”
I laugh again and fumble through my suit pocket until I find the velvet box. After Theresa gave the ring back to me, I nestled it safely inside the cursed little box. I don’t really know if you can return engagement rings, but I still plan to try. I carefully remove the ring. While I’m sitting in the booth, I can’t get down on one knee—and I’d probably fall over if I tried—so I just hold the ring out to him between my thumb and forefinger. “Euan—” I pause, realizing I don’t know his last name.
“Blair,” he supplies.
“Euan Blair, will you marry me?” The words are steady, confident in his answer.
“Oh, Alex,” he says with an overdramatic dreamy sigh. “Yes, of course!” Then he holds out his left hand.
His fingers are too thick for the ring. The only one it fits on is his pinky, where it slides easily over the knuckles before sitting snuggly. The big diamond surrounded by a halo of tiny diamonds looks a little tacky, if I’m honest. Not the type of ring I would have chosen on my own, but since I wasn’t the one wearing it, I stuck to Theresa’s preferences.
