Hapless (3 page)

The restaurant buzzed around him, full to the brim, and Ty found it hard to ignore the dark looks thrown his way from the maître d’ since he was basically taking up the best table. By himself.

At twenty minutes past, Ty pulled his phone out of his pocket to shoot off an irritated text when Micah appeared, weaving through the crowd. His cheeks were pink from the cold and he brushed snowflakes out of his dark hair. His blue shirt enhanced the color of his eyes and his tie was holiday-themed and hideous, but Ty didn’t care.

“Hey,” Micah said, bending down and kissing Ty with frigid lips. “I’m sorry I’m late. It’s snowing.” He said the last part with a wide, happy grin. “I may have gotten distracted.”

Ty didn’t have it in him to be annoyed. His irritation melted away with the snowflakes on Micah’s eyelashes because his boyfriend probably spent his walk from the Metro catching snowflakes on his tongue and admiring how the holiday lights twinkled in the weather.

“You’re a child,” Ty replied without any heat behind the words.

“And yet you love me,” Micah said with an impish grin, cocking his head to the side. “Says more about you than me, I think.”

“Just look at your menu and decide what you want.”

Micah flipped it open, lips pursed. “I thought Jack wanted to try a new dish on us.” He raised his gaze and looked around the bustling room. “Which seems kind of odd for a night as packed as this.”

“Yeah,” Ty answered, valiantly trying to appear nonchalant as his stomach ran laps. “He changed his mind. He doesn’t have the time, so order whatever you want.”

“You know,” Micah said, finger running down the page of the menu, “for someone who I’ve seen drunk and naked more times than I’ve ever wanted to, Jack is awfully pretentious.”

Ty snorted and almost spat out the sip of wine he finally managed to take. He coughed into his napkin and cleared his throat. “We’ve all grown up,” Ty said, voice coming out choked. “Well, some of us have.”

Micah’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll have you know I’m a very important nurse at the hospital. I’m in charge of important things.”

“God help anyone who gets injured when it’s snowing.”

Micah laughed and took a sip of his wine. “You know—” he started, but was cut off by a commotion to their immediate left.

Ty noticed the couple earlier while he was waiting for Micah to show. They were young and obviously together. In fact, the young man appeared almost as nervous as Ty was, sweating, fidgeting, and
oh no
.

The young woman stood, staggering and coughing, manicured hand at her throat, champagne glass dangling from her fingers.

“Oh my god! Honey? Honey, are you okay?” he yelled.

She lurched, panicked, falling into their table, knocking over their glasses. Micah immediately shot to his feet and Ty fell out of his chair, trying and failing to avoid the absolute river of wine soaking into the tablecloth.

“Hey, are you okay?” Micah asked.

“The ring was in the glass!”

Oh shit
.

Micah’s eyes widened. “The what was in the what?”

“I was trying to propose!” the guy yelled. “The ring was in the champagne and she drank it and….”

Fuck
.

Ty scuttled backward, out of the way. His heart sank like a rock in his stomach as the scene unfolded.

“Keep coughing,” Micah encouraged the woman. She was gasping and coughing and freaking, if the expression on her face was anything to go by. “If you can cough, you can breathe. Okay? I’m a nurse and I’m going to help you.” Micah pointed to the gaping and mortified boyfriend. “You call nine one one.”

He turned back to the struggling woman, and by now a crowd had formed. He maneuvered her toward the table and helped her place her hands on the surface.

“Cough hard. I’m going to help dislodge it.” He wrapped one arm around to support her and struck her between the shoulder blades, her earrings swaying violently, her perfect hair falling into her face. On the second blow, the ring flew out of her mouth and landed in the breadbasket.

Ty watched the whole scene from the floor, on his ass, as his boyfriend saved the day. After the surge of overwhelming pride came the crushing realization yet another proposal was fucking ruined. And that his ring was baked into a cake in the back. A beautiful, ironic choking hazard.

Jumping to his feet, Ty shouldered through the crowd of onlookers and into the back of the restaurant. He pushed through the doors of the kitchen, smashing into a waitress who carried a full tray of salad and soup. They managed to keep their feet, but Ty ended up with new stains on his dress shirt. It didn’t matter. Ty was already covered in wine. What was a little soup of the day?

“Hey! You can’t be back here,” someone yelled.

Ty ignored them and made a beeline for Jack.

“Where’s the cake?”

Jack looked up from where he plated an order of blackened salmon. “What? Ty, what’s going on?”

“Where is the cake?”

Jack jerked his chin toward a stainless-steel refrigerator. “It’s in there. It’s not ready to be served yet. The hot fudge isn’t—”

Ty yanked open the fridge and found the perfectly round cake. He didn’t hesitate and sunk his hand into the dessert, fumbling around until he found the unmistakable metal curve of the ring. He pulled it out triumphantly, wiped it off on a dishtowel, and shoved it back into the box he carried in his pocket. He snapped the lid shut and took a deep breath, folding forward onto the immaculate counter.

Jack stared at him.

“What the fuck, Ty? Cold feet?”

Ty lifted his head, mouth open, and straightened. “I’ll tell you later.”

Walking out of the kitchen, Ty realized he was covered in wine, soup, and now chocolate. He was an absolute mess. Micah waited for him at their table, which was in the process of being cleaned and straightened, the evidence of the emergency being wiped away by the staff. Ty could see the lights of the ambulance through the window, but the crowd had dispersed, leaving Micah alone, slumped in his chair.

“Ty? Are you okay? Where did you go?”

Wearily Ty sank into his chair. “Oh, I’m fine. I went to talk to Jack.”

Micah nodded, distracted. “Uh… you want to get out of here? I know this was supposed to be a nice night out, but I… I would really like a cheeseburger and to cuddle on the couch, if I’m completely honest.”

Ty snapped out of his disappointed haze and studied Micah—how he slouched, how he was weary around his eyes, how his smile was tight. The incident exhausted him.

And right then Ty’s frustration didn’t matter anymore.

“Yeah, babe, whatever you want.”

Micah wilted. “Thank you.”

Ty stood and took Micah’s hand, pulling him to his feet. He slung his arm around Micah’s shoulders and guided him through the restaurant, ignoring the stares and claps of the other patrons.

Micah nestled into Ty’s side. “Are you going to tell me why you’re covered in chocolate?”

Ty merely sighed.

T
IME
WAS
winding down. Fifteen days until Christmas, and Ty was out of ideas. Well, not out of ideas. He had plenty of ideas, but he was out of ideas he could afford, pull off in a short amount of time, and weren’t weather dependent. As lucrative as the title “freelance editor” sounded, it wasn’t really. And he couldn’t see blowing money on skywriting that, with his current track record, would either be misspelled or not visible against heavy snow clouds.

He crossed it off the list and sighed. Sitting at the kitchen island, Ty slumped over his laptop.

He had editing to finish, but his heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t read about the jungle hero sweeping the stranded heiress off her feet when his own love life was a barrel of angsty monkeys.

Ty rested his forehead on the tabletop and groaned. He only wanted to get engaged and married to his boyfriend. Why was it proving so difficult?

His phone rang—a cheery rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock” blaring from the speaker next to his ear, and he vaguely considered the murder of his boyfriend for breaking into his phone and changing the ringtone. Murder
would
negate his current predicament, but it was also pretty counterintuitive to what he was trying to accomplish. Also: jail time.

He fumbled around for the phone, not raising his head, and brought it to his ear once he managed to extract it from his hoodie pocket.

“What?”

“You were trying to propose!” the female voice screeched in his ear.

Ty shot upright and then promptly fell off the bar stool, landing on his ass on the kitchen floor.

“What?” he said again, sharp and surprised.

“Oh my God, I just realized it a few minutes ago. The made dinner. The candles. The mood lighting. And I barged in and
ruined
it. I am so sorry, Ty. Why didn’t you kick my ass to the curb?”

Ty took a breath. “Hello to you too, Bronwyn.”

“Fuck niceties. You are going to be my for real brother-in-law! You and Micah are going to have a wedding! I’m going to be a bridesmaid and then, oh my God, an
aunt.
” She squealed. She actually squealed, and Ty held the phone away from his ear.

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself.” Ty picked himself off the floor and hobbled into the living room, his ass throbbing.

“Like Micah won’t say yes. I bet you he’s going to jump into your arms like a chick from a romantic comedy.”

Ty grimaced, easing down to the couch. “Not unless I actually get a chance to ask him.”

The rapid-fire high-pitched babble stopped abruptly, and Ty felt the disbelief over the line.

“What do you mean? Christmas day is around the corner. Do it that morning.”

Ty rolled his eyes. “We’re not a cliché.”

“Seriously?” Bronwyn snorted. “My brother wears rainbow socks. He’s a walking cliché.”

“Well, I’m not, and I’ve failed three times now, and I’m a little sensitive about it.”

She cooed in his ear. Ty glared, realized she couldn’t see it, but kept glaring anyway while he considered hanging up.

“Take him to a hockey game,” she said. “Have it posted on the scoreboard during a break. He’s a dork. He’d love it.”

Ty perked up. “That’s actually not bad.”

“Of course it’s not. I thought of it.”

“I could get tickets and have it all arranged.” He could. Micah’s favorite team was the Washington Capitals. That was pretty much the extent of Ty’s hockey knowledge, but he could check their schedule and see if he could manage to get tickets if they were playing a home game in December. Arranging a proposal probably wasn’t too hard. People did it all the time. “This… this might be doable.”

“I want to be a bridesmaid,” Bronwyn said, breaking Ty out of his thoughts. “No, I want to be maid of honor. Promise me! Promise, Ty. And you better not pick a pink dress. I look amazing in blue. Remember that. Winnie looks amazing in blue, strapless. Oh, this better be in the fall. I do not do well in DC heat.”

“I’m… not listening,” Ty said, running scenarios through his head. “I’ll talk to you later.”

He hung up when Bronwyn started rhapsodizing about color schemes. Rejuvenated, Ty sprang to his laptop and began to enact his epic plan.

T
HEIR
SEATS
weren’t the best at such short notice, but that fact didn’t seem to faze Micah, who was all bright eyes and flushed cheeks when they entered the arena. He was decked out in Caps gear from head to toe—hat, scarf, and jersey. He practically buzzed with enthusiasm and team pride.

The jersey was a size too big and Micah’s jeans were a bit snug. The combination should have looked ridiculous, but all Ty saw was the man he wanted to marry. His heart swelled like the Grinch’s, and he matched Micah’s ridiculous grin with one of his own.

“You are the best boyfriend ever,” Micah said, lowering into his assigned seat. “The absolute best.”

Ty made a low noise. “I’m glad you think so, but I expect compensation. Lots of compensation.”

Smiling, Micah leaned over and pressed a kiss to Ty’s cold cheek. “Later. I promise.”

“Good.” Ty’s heart thumped. The ring pressed into his hip, a hard lump in his jeans.

His proposal was going to flash at the end of the second period on the scoreboard hanging above center ice. That’s when Ty would get down on one knee, pull out the ring, and propose. Maybe Micah would jump into his arms like a rom-com heroine as Bronwyn predicted, or maybe he wouldn’t. Whatever. They’d be engaged, which was basically all Ty was aiming for at this point.

“I’m so excited,” Micah said, rubbing his hands together. “This is going to be a great game. The Caps are going to wipe the ice with the ’Canes. I can feel it.”

A guy in front of them turned around and held out his fist. “Right on, bro.”

Micah bumped it, and Ty had a moment where he felt like Dorothy in Oz. It was no secret he had no interest in hockey despite Micah’s passion for it. Micah grew up in Michigan, where winter was a thing that happened and there were sports that included ice and snow. Ty grew up on the coast of South Carolina, where winter was a thing that happened in movies and was spoken about in hushed whispers lest the residents accidentally call down a flurry. Settling in DC had been an adjustment for them both.

“I’m glad you’re excited,” Ty said diplomatically. He was excited too, but for a totally different reason.

“Have I mentioned you’re the best boyfriend?” Micah said again as the seats filled up around them and the time neared for the game to start.

“You have, but I could stand to hear it more.”

Micah knocked into Ty’s shoulder. “Again later.”

The buzz inside the arena was electric, and Ty felt out of place in his generic jeans and sweater while everyone else sported team clothing. He thought about buying a scarf, if only to fit in, but the thought skittered away after the anthem was sung and the puck dropped.

Ty knew a little about the game from watching Micah play for years, so he was fairly certain things weren’t quite going the way the fans wanted. When the Hurricanes scored in the first few minutes, the disappointment in the stands was palpable, the enthusiastic hum dying away within seconds. Micah clapped and leaned forward, hands on his knees.