Page 34 of Beck and Call

"Until the end of the year? It's about three months long, and we should have a pretty good idea if we want to be together after that," I suggested.

"It sounds reasonable. What should we tell my parents?"

I shrugged. "They're your parents. What do you think we should tell them?"

"Let's tell them we're engaged. It will buy us some time alone. Otherwise, we are going to be dealing with lots of drop-in visits from both of them in their meddling attempt to push us together."

"If that's what you think we should do."

He took my hand and we walked back into the restaurant, just as the waiter was setting down salads.

"Well?" his father asked.

"You both made fine points. I'd asked Evie to move in with me yesterday, and she turned me down. Turns out, she's a bit traditional. I know we've only been together a week, but sometimes you just know. Now that we're getting married, perhaps she'll agree to move in with me before the wedding."

"Well, like you said last night, it's the only practical choice," I teased.

His mother clapped. "I was hoping you'd come to see it our way. Just in case, I brought along your grandmother's ring."

She handed a blue box to Beckett. He rose from his seat and got down on one knee in front of me. I wanted to demand he stand up, but I knew they were expecting a proposal. It was one thing to agree to marry him as a way to keep his company, but having him propose in a lovely restaurant was too close to my fantasies.

Except, it was too soon, and we weren't madly in love. It was taking all my girlhood dreams and cracking them a little. The dreams I held for my future would never be quite the same.

"I know this isn't exactly what every little girl dreams of," he said. He locked his eyes on mine, and I knew he was trying to give me what he could. He wasn't only putting on a show, but was also giving me as much of himself as he could. Greedy for affection, I couldn't look away.

"I work too much, and so will you by my side. You already know I'm bossy and a bit high handed. If you can accept me, flaws and all, I promise to take care of you, to be your partner for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"

I put my hand on the top of his, keeping him from opening the box. His mother misread my action and gasped. I smirked at him to reassure him. "My answer is yes, whether that's the most stunning ring or a toy from a gumball machine. You know I don't care about your money.

"I'd say I didn't care about your looks either, but I'm quite fond of those actually." I blushed, and his mother giggled.

I let my hand fall off the box and he opened it to reveal a three-carat cushion cut diamond in a platinum band also surrounded by diamonds. It looked like something you saw in a collection of crown jewels, not to be worn on my finger.

"Oh lordy, what if I lose it?" I whispered.

He took it out of the box and slipped it on my finger. "It's insured."

It was a little heavy on my hand, or perhaps the heaviness of what it represented was what weighed on me.

Chapter Twelve

After dinner we waited out front of the restaurant for the valet to bring our cars around. Grace had started writing notes to herself in her smartphone and mumbling things about flowers and caterers.

"You don't plan to have a long engagement, do you?" she asked, putting her phone down for a moment.

"Give us at least a few months to get used to being engaged, Mom," Beckett said. He put his hand on my waist and pulled me to his side.

Grace continued to talk, and I mostly tuned her out as I thought about all the changes that had happened in my life since I'd waited on him at the diner about a week ago. It wasn't until I felt Beckett tense up that I clued in to the fact she was speaking to me, and whatever she said made Beckett uncomfortable.

"Mother, stop," he begged.

"Oh, don't be silly. Of course her mother would like to be involved. Evie, if you could send me her contact information I'll get in contact with her and sort this out."

"I hope you have a Ouija Board," I muttered under my breath.

"What was that?" she asked.

"My mother passed away fifteen years ago," I told her instead of repeating myself.

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