“We are not married,” she growls. “There are no magic words. This isn’t a genie deal! What you have is a useless piece of paper and an empty glass of merlot. Pull your head out of your ass, and think with your brain.”
“It could be real,” he pouts. “All you have to do is change some digital files. It ain’t like you haven’t done that shit before. We could be married and on honeymoon by now. Butnoooo, you think because I signed for us both, it doesn’t count.”
“It doesn’t! Jesus, Jay. I would marry you if you asked properly. I would say yes if you actually tried, got down on one knee, pledged love and loyalty. I would fabricate files and backdate it if it meant so much to you, but I want my own proposal. I want love, not your brother’s leftovers. Why is that so hard to understand?”
“You would marry me?” Jay’s eyes soften. “Really?”
“Yes, really! I love your stupid face, and plan to keep you around. I know I act like I don’t need the romance sometimes, but I’m only getting married once. Forgive me for wanting my own fucking proposal!”
“Would you wear a tutu, Soph?” He leans in close enough that I know they’re going to be fucking on our card table in just a few minutes.
If Abigail was here, she’d be blushing and running away. Instead, I sit and watch the train wreck that is Jay’s entire relationship. It’s pure luck that Soph likes trains, I guess.
“Instead of a regular gown, would you wear a tutu for me?” He tugs her a little closer and presses his lips to hers. “I just want the yes and the dress. Everything else, I’ll do for you. I’ll propose.” He nods, as though that’ll help him convince her. “I can do it up big. Maybe we could go on a hot air balloon ride? Or I could take you to Paris and propose at the top of the Eiffel Tower.” He turns to me. “Right?”
“Right.” I sit back and smile. “That’ll do it.”
He turns back to Soph. “I could propose with a sky writer. Or I could climb the outside of the Empire State Building.”
“That’s illegal, dummy.”
“I would do illegal things for you, Soph. You know this about me. I’m your ride or die, and we’ve done both together.” He pecks her lips. “Marry me, Soph. Let’s make a family.”
“I’ll marry you,” she whispers. “But I want a real proposal. You don’t get shit signed until you make me swoon.”
“Swoon?” His top lip curls back. “Are you serious?”
She nods. “Make me fall in love with your proposal. But there are rules.”
He lifts a brow. “Since when do we do rules?”
“Since now. You can’t do anything illegal, unless it’s something we can easily cover up.”
“Well that’s no fun.”
She purses her lips. “You can’t do anything dangerous… at all. I’d never get over it if you hurt yourself while trying to make me swoon.”
“There’s that word again.”
I roll my eyes and stand, since I’m completely redundant right now. I turn and head toward a mini fridge shoved under one of the counters that line the wall, snatch a Gatorade from the door shelf, and turn back to find Jay practically in Soph’s lap.
“You guys need a minute?”
They whisper together.
Their lips move together.
They whisper some more.
I fling my bottle cap across the room and ping Jay on the back of the head, but he remains completely absorbed in his bastardized proposal. He’s already got the yes. All he needs is a ring and to take a knee, but I know how his brain works, and I know with absolute certainty he’s planning to swim with the sharks or kidnap the president or some shit. He inventedgo big or go home, and now that Soph has laid down the gauntlet, we’re all going to bear witness to his arrest and incarceration.
Sipping my drink, I walk away from the couple, and head back to my living quarters. They’ll come find me when they’re done, and then maybe I can continue my plan of not thinking about Abigail. But until then…
I walk through my door – it’s solid steel, and effectively creates a panic room away from the rest of my business – and close it up behind me. Stepping into my living room, I drop down onto my leather couch and lift my feet to the coffee table with a grunt. The TV reflects me back at myself, so all I see is a large couch dwarfed by a larger man.
I’ve never disliked being tall. In fact, I kinda loved it. But now that Abigail provides a direct contrast, it’s odd.
I’ve never in my life spent so much time thinking about height and weight.