Page 61 of Be My Valentine

Kate was wearing a pair of black pants and a pink pullover over a white blouse. Meg had dressed up, short dress and high heels; she hadn’t wanted to listen to reason; whether she was with her husband or not, Valentine’s Day was to be respected: she had said it so convincingly that Kate had actually laughed, for the first time in days.

“I’m super excited, the Rose Club! I can’t wait.”

Kate wished she could have been infected by that genuine enthusiasm, but while Meg raised her eyes to enjoy such elegance, she kept them glued to the floor, afraid that any glimpse, object or color, might trigger memories.

“There it is!” Meg said, dragging her inside. The room was still deserted, and among a series of soft, refined armchairs, a single table set to perfection stood out.

“Your husband really sets things up right!” Kate exclaimed.

“Oh, my!” Meg rummaged through her purse, harried “I left my cell phone in the car! Greg might call, I can’t not answer it tonight of all nights! I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll come with you!” Kate offered, but her friend ran out of the room and closed the door behind her. Kate heard the click of the lock and ran to the door, pounding her fist on the wood.

“Meg!” She screamed.

She stood there with her arms by the sides and dug the nails into palms as soon as she heard a voice, that voice, his voice.

“Hi, Kate.” Said Mark.

She turned slowly and saw him across the empty room, now she understood why it was deserted.

“Let me out of here immediately.”

Mark had watched her walk in, and his heart had begun to race. The first sentence she uttered was the one he had expected.

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to: I have only one thing to ask you and one thing to tell you; could you at least give me a few minutes?”

“No.” she answered dryly, “I don’t want to listen to you. I want to go out. Let me out or I swear I’ll scream with as much breath as I have in my throat!”

Mark had anticipated this as well.

“The key is on the table. Take it. Go ahead.”

Kate looked at him doubtfully.

“Where’s the catch?”

“No catch, the key is on the table.” He repeated.

Kate took a step and admonished him.

“Don’t come any closer, don’t take a single step towards me!”

“I’m not moving.” Mark humored her, staying close to the dark wood panelled wall.

Kate reached the table slowly, casting brief glances at him to make sure he actually stayed down there at the end.

She reached out her hand for the key, which was there as he had said, and her breath caught because it wasn’t the only thing there: next to it stood an open box from Tiffany Jewellers, with its unmistakable color; a platinum ring with a rectangular diamond, very conspicuous.

Kate wrinkled her brow and Mark wanted to run up and kiss her right there, where her skin rippled, but stoically he remained still.

“Will you marry me?” He asked her from a distance.

Kate snapped her head up toward him.

“Are you out of your mind? What is that supposed to mean?” She was angry, but Mark sensed the tremor in her voice. He had to be calm; she had the key in her hand and hadn’t even touched the ring.

“It simply means what I asked: would you like to be my wife?”