Page 49 of Love You Truly

“I, um, figured we should make it official.”

Driving up here under a bluebird sky framed by wispy white clouds in the distance, I imagined what Cyrano would tell dopey Christian. I tried to come up with my own silver-tongued magic to get the girl.

But then I stopped myself, remembering I’m not a lovestruck suitor. I’m just a guy who made a deal he wants to honor. I pulled off the highway at a smoothie shop and ordered two strawberry-banana frozen drinks.

I thrust one of them toward Mallory, who reaches for it. “Thanks.”

“Strawberry banana. Not sure you like that flavor.” The sight of her has reduced me to a pimply middle schooler asking a girl to go steady.

“Who doesn’t like that flavor?” She takes a sip, and her eyes drift shut. “Wow, that hits the spot after yoga.”

The sun hits her face, and she looks like she should be modeling for a smoothie company or something. That’s how perfect she looks, with her pink lips wrapped around the straw and her dark lashes grazing her cheeks each time she blinks.

I’m tempted to call it a day and leave. Smoothie success. But Mallory notices the loose bouquet of red and orange ranunculus I chose from the farm stand. I carried it under my arm from the car and put it down before she opened the door.

“Oh. I brought you these too. Do you have a favorite color of flower?”

Now she looks at me quizzically. “Is this some kind of get-to-know-you visit? Do you have a carload of props?”

“Nope, just these.”

She juts a hip out to the side and puts a hand on it, studying me. “Do you have a favorite flower color?

“Whatever ones won’t die the soonest are good in my book.”

She chuckles. “That works too.” She stares at me watching her. I need to salvage this before it becomes really awkward.

Before it becomes really, really awkward…

So I wrestle the ring box from my pocket and present it to her. Mallory’s eyes go wide, and she drops her smoothie. I catch it before it hits the floor and squeeze the cup so hard that a squirt flies up through the straw and onto my shirt.

Now I have a big pink arch of strawberry banana on my chest, and Mallory laughs.

“Not what I was hoping for when I went out and bought a ring.”

“Sorry. I’m just still processing that part. You…bought a ring? An engagement ring?”

“Um, yeah. Pretty sure you dropped a hundred hints about diamonds.”

“I was…I was kidding!”

I dismiss the thought with a wave. “Come on, Marshmallow. A ring is important when two people are going to waltz around in front of a certain ex-husband and look convincing.”

She laughs. “I am looking forward to the waltzing.”

And because Mallory rarely does what I’m expecting, instead of taking the box from me, she takes a step backward and uses the large windowpane glass to check her reflection. She pulls her hair out of its topknot, shakes it out, and straightens her tank top. Throwing her shoulders back, she stands up taller.

“Okay, a little better. I’m ready. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“Your proposal.”

“Um…” All thoughts leave my mind simultaneously. I did spend a few miles of the drive thinking about what people say when they get engaged, but that was mainly because the ring box digging into my leg kept bringing my focus back to it.

I didn’t think about what I’d say to Mallory because this isn’t a real proposal.

Right?

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