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The nickname he’s always used for me causes me to bristle. “I came to help my father, and since he’s not even here, I’m leaving.” I turn and stride toward the door but he catches my arm before I reach the handle.
“Please, I want to show you something. Then you’re free to go.” He lets go of my arm.
I contemplate for a moment and decide I’ll see what it is he wants. Then I can leave with little to no drama. “Fine. But make it quick.”
He places his hand on my back and guides me toward the library. His hand feels cold and foreign on my bare skin. Nothing like Brooks’s warm, calloused hand that simultaneously heightens my heart rate, and then calms it again.
Todd leads me inside the small space and my eyes widen in surprise. The room is dark and dim except for tea candles placed all over the bookshelves. Red rose petals are scattered all over the floor as if a Valentine’s Day bouquet was annihilated here. The flickering candles cast shadows on Todd’s face, making him look sinister.
“This seems like a fire hazard,” I say, wishing Brooks was here to laugh about it with me.
Todd groans irritably. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“Huh?” I ask, confused at his remark. To my absolute horror, the man in front of me, the one I’m no longer dating, drops down on one knee. I can feel the blood drain from my face when he pulls a velvet box out of his tuxedo pocket, an arrogant grin on his face the whole time.
I can feel my face twitching as if it doesn't know what to do. A corner of my mouth pulls up, wanting to laugh. But my eyebrows draw together in annoyance. But also, my eyes are filling with hot, angry tears. Pick an emotion already, Molly!
Todd translates my horrified expression as the sign to continue and opens the ring box where an ostentatious diamond ring is nestled in white silk. The ring is huge and has a modern design. Absolutely not what I would ever choose.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long. But you’re the one for me. Marry me, Molls,” he says it as a statement, not a question.
“Todd, stop.” I walk over to the bookshelves and start blowing out the tea candles. Because when I flee from this room, I don’t want to worry about a fire burning the entire cabin down.
“What are you doing?” He stands and walks over to me, shooing me away from the candles.
“This is literally so dangerous. Candles right next to paperbacks? No.”
“Stop talking about the damned candles!” he demands, his voice angry. “I just asked you to marry me, which is what you’ve always dreamed of. Now answer me.” He wraps his arms around my waist and presses me against him. I squirm and try to get away but he’s not relenting.
“Let me go! I don’t want to marry you!”
My words must surprise him because he gasps and his hold on me loosens. I swat his hands away.
“I know you’re only asking because you want your trust fund. But even if that weren’t the case … We’re not right for each other. We never were.”
“Who told you about the trust fund?” He has the audacity to sound offended.
“Does it really matter? You stayed with me because of money. I stayed with you to keep everyone happy. Everyone but myself.” I shrug. “We both did this all wrong. Let’s just move forward with our lives … separately”
He scoffs, his face turning into a scowl. “Is this because of Brooks?”
A strangled sound comes out of my mouth. Something like a half laugh, half groan. “This has nothing to do with Brooks.” I rub my temples with my index fingers. “I don’t want to marry you because of … well, you.”
His jaw drops.
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it, and I blow out the rest of the candles while he stands there looking baffled. “Look at the ring, for instance.” I gesture to the obnoxious diamond. “You obviously don’t know me at all.”
His jaw tenses. “Do you have any idea how much this ring cost?” He kicks the pile of roses at his feet.
“That’s not the point.” I sigh and take a step toward the door. “After seven years, you don’t even know what I like.” Smiling sympathetically, I continue, “Except the spoons. The spoons and romantic notes you sent always gave me faith in us … but I need more than spoons.”
He shifts on his feet and rests a hand on his narrow hip. “Molly, what the hell are you talking about?”
“The antique spoons you send me,” I say, holding my hands out like that will jog his memory. “You just sent me one this morning.”
“Sorry to continually disappoint you, but I’ve never sent you a spoon.” He looks down at his feet, shaking his head. “You’re so freaking blind.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I remember Hope and Layla asking me if Brooks could be the one sending the spoons.
