Mr. Black's Proposal (2 page)

But she wasn’t just any other girl. And I’d blown it.

I made my way back through to the library, where my mother and her friends were probably chattering away about me. When I peeked my head in through the library door, though, only my mom was still there. She was sitting in my leather reading chair, drinking a glass of wine.

“Lucas,” she said.

“Don’t even start, mom,” I groaned, slouching into the room. “I know. I’m a fuckup.”

“It’s okay, darling.”

“It’s not okay,” I fumed. “It’s definitely not okay. This is the least
okay
I’ve felt in a good goddamn time.”

“You’ll find someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else!” I yelled. God, I felt like a child. “I want
her.”

I slammed my hand against the bookshelf. One of the books toppled over, then another, then another. A whole row of them, like dominoes, coming crashing down sideways.

“I want
her
,” I said. The last word choked in my throat.

“Then you’ll have to find a way to win her heart.”

I looked up at my mom. She tilted her wine glass in the air. She didn’t seem to think that it was a lost cause.

“Do you think I can? Do you think it will work?”

“I don’t know. But I know that my boy has always managed to get what he wants.”

The silence between us hung in the air. I didn’t know how sober she was, but I knew that I’d managed to wreck everything. And no matter how tipsy she was, I didn’t know if she could forgive me.

“I’m sorry. That was probably the worst present I could give you on your birthday, huh? The world’s worst wedding proposal.”

“Honey, you tried.”

“Yeah. Tried and failed.”

“Actually, I’m quite impressed with you, Lucas. More impressed than you know.”

It almost made me mad to see her looking so placid. Her eyes twinkled amid the fine wrinkles on her face. She was so calm, and I was so twisted up inside I could retch. I swallowed my frustration and clasped my hands together to keep from hitting any more bookcases.

“Impressed with me? Why?”

“I thought you were only proposing to that girl because you knew I wanted you to settle down.”

I looked up. She sipped her wine thoughtfully.

“Now I know you’re really in love. I mean, truly and honestly. I think this is the first time I’ve seen you all torn up over a girl.”

I thought back. I’d never stressed out over any of my relationships, except for maybe one. And I’d ruined that one, too. I put my head in my hands and slumped down to the carpet. My forehead pressed hard against my knees.

“It hurts,” I said. My throat closed up. “Mom, it hurts.”

She was next to me, kneeling, her hand rubbing my back.

“That’s how you know it’s real.”

I never remembered her being particularly comforting, even when I was a kid. Now, though, she was making soft shushing noises and telling me not to cry. It was only then that I realized that tears were coming out of my eyes. I wiped them away roughly and blinked.

“What can I do, mom?”

The tip of her tongue poked through her thin lips, and I knew she was thinking hard. When she spoke, her voice was calm. It helped my heart slow down a bit.

“The next time you propose,” she said, “don’t make it about yourself, or anyone else. Make it about her.”

“How?”

She shrugged and held out the half-full glass of wine to me.

“Not sure,” she said. “You’re the one who loves her. You’ll have to figure that part out yourself.”

Chapter Three

Steph

My world might have been tumbling end over end, but cupcakes still needed baking. Instead of heading up to the apartment to shower and sleep, I went straight to the bakery and started on the next day’s work. I was exhausted, but I knew that I would only be tossing and turning in bed if I tried to go to sleep.

Why had Lucas proposed to me? We hadn’t even had a first date yet! I told myself that I had dodged a real bullet. There was no sane man who would propose to someone after knowing them for such little time. I mean, really. It was for the best.

Every time I told myself, that, though, I remembered how he had touched me, how he had caressed me,
desired
me. He’d been the most passionate lover I’d ever had.

You know that’s not enough.

Of course he was also funny, and smart, and hard working. But I didn’t even know the guy! I mean, I knew him a little bit. Enough to think that he didn’t seem crazy.

Except for the whole marriage proposal at his mom’s birthday party.

Back and forth I went. I kicked myself for turning him down. Then I kicked myself for kicking myself for turning him down. I worked for three hours straight and got everything ready for the next morning. It was two in the morning the last time I checked the clock, and then I must have passed out.

“Steph, get up.”

I heard my brother’s voice in my ear. I mumbled for him to leave me alone and buried my face back in my arms.

“Steph, you fell asleep in the cocoa powder.”

It was Andy, shaking me awake. I lifted my head. The can of cocoa was on its side, and I’d been resting my cheek in the mess. I blinked, and a shower of cocoa powder fell from my eyelashes.

“Oh, jeez,” I said. I moved sleepily to grab a rag. I slopped it onto the table, trying to mop up the cocoa. The water turned the cocoa into runny chocolate water. Andy watched me making a mess for only a few seconds. Then he took the rag from me and tossed it in the sink.

“Hey!”

“Stop,” he said.

“I have to clean up—”

“No. I’ll clean up in the morning. You need sleep.”

“I don’t need sleep,” I muttered. That was a lie. I needed sleep more than anything.

“Come on,” he said, lifting me onto my feet. I let him help me to the stairs and up to our apartment. I slumped down onto the couch.

“Not here,” Andy said, tugging at my shoulder.

“Here,” I mumbled, pulling a couch cushion under my head. “I don’t want to mess up my bed.”

“Oh, but you can mess up the living room couch?”

“Yes,” I said, in the authoritative voice of an older sister.

“That’s where I bring my dates,” Andy argued.

“Ewwwwwwww,” I moaned, but my head went dizzy when I tried to sit up. “I’m still not moving.”

“Fine,” Andy said. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

“I can’t believe I fell asleep in the cocoa,” I mumbled, once he was back. He threw the blanket over me and sat on the arm of the couch.

“I can. You were running on, like, two hours of sleep.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Are you going to tell me why you left the party?”

I looked up at my brother. Oh, God. All of the events of last night came streaming back to me all over again. I pulled the blanket over my head and moaned.

“I had to clean up everything without you,” he said, pulling the blanket down. He looked more than a little irritated.

“I’m sorry.”

“It would have been nice if you had at least told me you were leaving before you went running out the front door.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It wasn’t…no. you’re right. I should have told you.”

“Is this why you left?”

“Did Lucas… did Lucas tell you what happened?” I stammered.

“Tell me what? He said you left and that’s all he would say.”

“I fucked everything up so bad,” I said. I’d ruined the celebration for Lucas’s mom completely. But Lucas had been the one to really go and mess things up. I don’t know what he’d been thinking.

“Well, apart from the burned cupcakes and the dog puking, it wasn’t that bad of a party,” Andy said. “Your billionaire boyfriend seemed happy enough until the end of it, anyway.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said.

“Really?”

“Really. That man is insane.”

“Insanely cute, you mean,” Andy said.

“No. He’s legit crazy. He proposed to me.”

Andy’s jaw dropped down so far I thought it might drop of his face completely.

“
What?!
”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. I turned over on the couch and snuggled up under the blanket. A pinch on my side brought me rudely back to reality.

“Um, hello? Sister?”

“I need to sleep,” I mumbled so that it sounded more like
Ineedalshleep.

“You need to tell me exactly what you mean by
He proposed to me.”

“That’s it.”

“Like,
Will you marry me?
proposed to you?”

“I don’t think he asked. It was more of an order.
Marry me.”

“What did you say?”

I turned back to look at my little brother, an expectant look on his face.

“What do you think I said?” I asked in irritation. “I said no.”

“What?
Why?!
”

“Why? Exhibit A: he proposed to me. After a week of knowing me. He’s insane, Andy. He goes through women like bottled water. Not even like normal people drink bottled water. Like those prissy girls at cafes who take a sip of Chateau Glacee mineral water and send it back because it tastes too much like minerals.”

“But you can’t—”

“Andy,
please
.” I let my voice show just how physically and emotionally tired I was. I could whine in front of my brother and not feel bad about it. “Let me go to sleep.”

“Alright,” Andy said. He tucked the blanket under my chin. “You’ll tell me all about it in the morning, okay?”

“Mmmffff,” I said, and then I was asleep.

The doorbell rang. In my dream, I opened the door and a sexy pizza delivery man was standing with a large pepperoni in his arms. He had Lucas’s face.
Come in,
I whispered in my best porn-star voice.

Then the doorbell rang again. Irritated, I opened one eye.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” I mumbled. “The ceiling is spinning in circles.”

The doorbell rang once more and I sat up on the couch in a slump of pain. Everything ached, and I had the vague memory of drinking directly out of one of the anise liqueur bottles down in the bakery.

“Are you going to get that?” Andy yelled. But Lacey wasn’t coming over until later.

“It’s your new boy toy,” I yelled back. “You get it.”

“No it’s not,” he yelled back. “We already broke up.”

“Fine,” I huffed, slumping off of the couch. I steadied myself against the wall as I made my way toward the door. “But if it’s the UPS man delivering your box of dildos—”

I stopped with the door halfway open.

It was Lucas. He stood there with a bouquet of red roses in his hand, dressed in a white button down and gray suit pants.

“Dildos?” He looked down at his bouquet. “I’m sorry. I thought that roses might be better, but if it’s dildos you want—”

“No,” I said.

“No? What? I haven’t even asked you—”

“It doesn’t matter. The answer is no.”

I tried to close the door, but he stuck his foot in. I slammed the door on his shoe and he yelped.

“Ow!” he cried. “Stop hurting me!”

“Stop trying to get into my apartment, and then I’ll stop hurting you. How about that?”

“No! Ow!” he said, as I slammed the door again, harder this time.

“What are you, some kind of insane stalker?”

“Let me talk to you for one minute.”

“The last time you talked to me for one minute, you asked me to marry you.”

“I promise I won’t ask you to marry me again.”

I eyed Lucas.

“I won’t ask you to marry me
today
,” he amended. “Not, you know, forever. That promise has a twenty-four hour life of contract.”

He bit his lip and held out the roses.

“Please?” he said.

“Red roses? Really?”

“Mrs. Norberg said they meant
love
,” he said. He looked down at them, then back up at me. “I’m not used to begging. This is weird.”

I sighed.

“Okay,” I said, opening the door. “You can come in. Just for ten minutes. I have to get to work.”

The smile that burst across Lucas’s face made my heart leap in my chest. I tried to suppress the hopeful feeling that rose up in my chest. I hadn’t lost him, after all. And he really didn’t seem insane. Today, anyway.

“So this where you live?”

“Yeah,” I said, suddenly self-conscious of the mess. There were books and clothes piled up everywhere, and Andy had put up his old Backstreet Boys and N’Sync posters. A half-naked Justin Timberlake stared back at us from over the TV with a mop of tight curly blonde hair. I picked up an empty Chinese container to throw away and then realized that there were a dozen more where that came from. I set the won ton box down quietly and shifted my weight on my feet.