Page 148 of Proposal Play

“I can’t say no to you,” I admit.

She cheers. “You can stay, girl,” she says to the dog, who makes an unusual sound in response—one that sounds strangely like a rooster’s crow.

“What was that?” I ask.

“Oh, she has a weird bark.” There’s a pause, then an excited gasp. “That’s it! Her name is Rooster.” I laugh as Maeve continues, “She cocked her head—yup, it’s her new name. Actually, hold on. I’m getting a message from thegoddess of dog names…wait for it…Her name is Ruby Rooster! Since she was red–thanks to our paint–when we found her, and she barks like a rooster.”

The Vancouver arena comes into view as I say, “Or maybe it’s because you really like…roosters.”

She snort-laughs. “I really likeyourrooster.”

I grin, then ask about the mural. She updates me, telling me more about the love lessons mirrors, the night market, and she suddenly brightens. “Oh! And this coffee shop called. It’s called High Kick Coffee—they have an art gallery run by a former Vegas showgirl. She saw the piece inCalifornia Styleearlier this week, and she loves to support women artists and wants some of my paintings on the walls. They sell a lot of art there.”

I think about that for a beat. “You know, now that you mention it, you do see a lot of art in coffee shops these days.”

“Exactly! I think they’ve become the new galleries, making art more accessible,” she says. I can picture her sinking into the couch, feet tucked under her, wearing one of her signature T-shirts, hair in a messy bun, and the image nearly makes me blurt out,I love you.

“Funny thing is,” Maeve continues, “once upon a time, I really wanted my art in galleries like the Frieda Claiborne or Julien Aldridge galleries—you know, the really fancy ones I used to cater for.”

I like where this is going. “And now that’s changing?”

“I think so. The idea of my mirrors being in stores, my paintings at coffee shops—it just feels right. I finished that tree mural at the vegan café, and I’m working on the moon and stars at the yoga studio. Maybe this is what it was supposed to be all along. Maybe it was never aboutfancy galleries. Maybe it was about getting my art in front of people every day, where they can enjoy it. It doesn’t have to sell for five thousand dollars to make me happy. If regular people get to see it, that makes my dream come true.”

“And you’re making art for, well, everyone. Not just rich people.”

Her voice catches. “Yeah, I am. And I think that’s really what matters to me.”

I smile to myself.She’s finally finding her footing, figuring things out.Selfishly, I wonder if this newfound certainty about her career might help my cause.Maybe if she’s sorting out these parts of her life, she’ll be more open to the biggest question of all:Do you think you could love me too?

I’m nearly at the arena when she adds one more thing. “Oh, my aunt wants to take us out again when you’re back in town. She said she has exciting news for us. I have no idea what that means, but is that okay?”

“Of course,” I say, though a small knot of suspicion forms in my gut. With Vivian, “exciting news” could mean anything—from a surprise dinner to something far more complicated—like she’s giving Maeve her catering business and needs her to take it over right now.

But it’s a good thing I’ll be there—I can protect Maeve from whatever curveball Vivian throws.

I’m walking up to the arena now, and the noise of the city fades into the background as the game looms closer. I should be focusing on the matchup, running through plays in my mind, but the conversation with Maeve lingers. Balancing hockey and this thing with Maeve—it’s getting more complicated. And soon, really soon, I’m going to have to tell her I’m madly in love with her.

It’s on the tip of my tongue. I’m just waiting for theright moment. I’ve been romancing her slowly so I wouldn’t scare her away. So I wouldn’t lose her.

And maybe, just maybe, she’s finally ready to hear that I love her.

But for tonight, I have a game to win. I shake off the thoughts of the woman of my dreams as I near the doors.

It’s early in the afternoon the next day, and I’m in the deadlifts zone at Beckett’s gym, when he hops off the elliptical and strides over, motioning for me to take out my AirPods. I set down the weights and turn off the music. “What’s up?”

We already lifted together earlier. I’m just doing extra sets now.

“When are you going to, you know, tell my sister you’re madly in love with her?”

I blink, stepping back. He’s more direct than I’d expected. I’m not entirely sure what to say to him about Maeve. I guess I figured I’d be risking our friendship if I ever did anything about the way I felt, but I also never truly thought he’d have an issue with it. That’s just not his style. He trusts me. “How long have you known?” I finally say.

“Dude, you’ve had it bad for her for years.”

Okay. So before I did. Great.

“Now’s your chance. Figure it out. Treat her well. And don’t forget about me. Got it?”

I swallow. Nod. “I won’t. And thanks,” I say, wondering if it’s as obvious to the world as it is to him.

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