Page 59 of Air Affair

He stood slowly, leaning his hand against the wall and pinching the bridge of his nose. Every muscle in his body was rigid. “I’m not offering out of obligation, Rory. I’m in love with you. I want to spend my life with you. I’m lost without you.”

He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers. “I love you, Rory. Please, I’m begging you, say yes.”

She cupped his cheek and stroked it with her thumb. “I have feelings for you too, Hank. Maybe it’s even love, but I don’t know yet. Everything in my life just turned upside down. I feel like I barely know myself. I’m not ready, not yet.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath. “But you might be at some point?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Right now, everything is so new. I need time. I care for you, Hank. Honestly, I do.”

“Is this because of your family? I know they’ll never accept me.” His eyes were closed as if bracing himself for a blow.

“It has nothing to do with my family. It’s me. I need time to be me without all the pressures and expectations of being who I was. I’m not ready to give up my freedom yet. I only just got it.”

“I’m not asking you to give up your freedom. I just want you to let me love you. Please.”

A tear dripped down her cheek as she looked at him. She didn’t want to hurt him.

“I’ll let you know when I’m ready. I promise. If I ever marry anyone, it will be you.”

He kissed her again with a little moan. It was the kiss of something ending and something else beginning. She clung to him, wishing she could soothe away his pain.

“I should go,” he said, pulling away. “Goodnight, Rory. I love you.”

“Goodnight, Hank.”

He turned and walked away.

22

Hank woke up with a blistering headache, fully clothed, the ring in his hand. Yes, he had some whiskey last night, but this feeling had nothing to do with what he’d drunk. Rory turned him down. Even after everything that happened to her, she preferred life alone to a life with him.

He’d flubbed the proposal. That much was clear. How could he propose next to a grocery store and expect her to say yes? And after that ridiculous dinner? It was no wonder she refused. He had to do better. He’d gotten impatient, and look where it had gotten him. But if he’d done everything right, if he’d executed his plan perfectly, would her answer have been any different?

He needed to convince her that marriage to him wouldn’t mean the end of her freedom, but how could he do that?

There was a knock on the door. Running his hand through his hair and dusting off his wrinkled clothes, he got up and trudged to the door. Opening it and wincing at the sunlight, he saw O’Donnell. Hank forgot he promised him a ride to the airfield today.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” O’Donnell said, taking in Hank’s appearance. “You look about as happy as she did last night when I walked her home. She explained that her father cut her off, but she wouldn’t say why. And she refused to explain what upset her so much when she was talking with you. What happened?”

Hank waved his friend in, started the stove, and put the percolator on for coffee. “It’s my fault. We got caught together, and her father cut her off. Then last night, I proposed, and she turned me down. Said she just got her freedom and wasn’t ready to give it up yet.”

“You proposed? Where?”

Hank winced. “In the alley next to the greengrocer.”

“Well, there’s your problem right there.”

Taking a deep breath, Hank said, “Thank you so much for reminding me how badly I fucked it up.”

“Yes, you did, but you can fix it. Do it properly. Woo her. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. She feels the same way you do. I’m sure of it,” O’Donnell said, sitting down in Hank’s breakfast nook. “It’s only a matter of time before she says yes, you musclebound oaf.”

The percolator finally boiled, and Hank poured himself a cup of scalding coffee. “You’re a good friend, you know that?” he said, burning his tongue.

“I’m sorry. What was that? I’m not sure I heard correctly.” He put his hand to his ear and waited.

Shaking his head, Hank laughed. “I said you’re a good friend. Don’t make me say it again.” He took another sip of coffee, blowing on it this time. “Let me take you to the airfield, or you’ll be late.”

“Thank you for the ride. My car is in the shop for another week, they say. How is it you and I can build a Jenny from parts in six hours, and it takes Baker’s Garage one whole week to fix a measly radiator?”