Page 69 of The Fake Play

“I just want tonight to go perfectly.”

She smiles at that. “Let’s not put that kind of pressure on ourselves. Perfect is a tall order?—”

“It’s what you deserve.”

She huffs a laugh under her breath. “Hardly.”

“You do.” I’m not about to back down on that fact. “It’s my job to give it to you.”

She smiles shyly and stops arguing.

The meal is exquisite, each dish flawlessly crafted. We laugh and reminisce about our first meeting and the ridiculous things we’d said to each other at Smokey’s that night. For a moment, I feel a sense of normalcy, as if we’re just two people on a date, without the complications of impending parenthood hanging over our heads. But as dessert arrives, my nerves get the better of me.

The waiter sets down a beautifully constructed chocolate mousse, and as I take a bite, I gather my courage. This is it—the moment I've been waiting for.

“Keke,” I begin, my heart racing. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us and what the future holds. I know things have been crazy lately, but I want you to know how serious I am about you. About us.”

Her eyes go wide, wary. “Luke…”

Before she can finish, I reach into my pocket and pull out the small velvet box I had tucked away earlier. I drop down to one knee, holding the ring out to her, my heart pounding in my chest. This is the moment I envisioned—the moment that will solidify our commitment to each other. “Keke, I love you. Your laugh, your smile, they’re the reason I get up in the morning. The reason I sleep peacefully at night. There is no one else in the world for me. You are everything to me, and I want to build a family with you. Will you marry me?”

“Absolutely not,” she hisses. “I will not take a pity proposal, Luke!”

The words cut through me like a knife. My heart sinks, and I scramble to regain my footing. “Keke, that’s… that’s not what this is! That’s the last thing on my mind. I meant every word I said!”

“I can’t believe you thought this would solve anything,” she mutters under her breath, rising from her seat.

“I thought?—”

“I need a minute.”

Before I can react, she storms out of the restaurant, leaving me stunned, the ring glinting in the candlelight.

My chest tightens as I process what just happened. She said no. She thinks I’m doing this out of pity. Nothing could be further from the truth.

Bile rises in the back of my throat.

The entire restaurant is staring at me. This was supposed to be a beautiful moment, a memory we would always cherish. Something to tell our kids and grandkids about. Instead, my whole world is collapsing.

I turn to sit just as a flurry of flashes erupt outside the restaurant. Fucking paparazzi. They had gotten the entire scenethrough the windows. I rush out the door, hellbent on stopping this before it goes anywhere.

“Hey! Put that camera down!”

“You’re on Atlanta Firehouse, Smith,” they tease.

Fuck. Just what I need. Our unofficial stalker-slash-team blogger, livestreaming me to the masses. I can see the headlines now: “Hockey Star Proposes to Pregnant Girlfriend—She Rejects Him!”

“Hey!” I shout again, trying to shield my face from their cameras. “Don’t use those pictures!” but they don’t care, and it doesn’t even matter anymore. They keep snapping away, capturing every angle of my humiliation. I turn back toward the entrance only to find Michael running out.

“Luke! What happened? Who are—get the hell off my property! Every last one of you vultures! Now!” he shouts and points them away. Most are too afraid to argue, but one lingers until Michael faces off with him, blocking their view of me. He glowers at the far smaller man as his voice rumbles, “You’ll be lucky if I call the cops to take you out of here.”

The paparazzo lifts a brow. “Alright, alright,” he mumbles as he walks away.

“Thanks for that.” Michael nods and we wait until they’re in their cars before speaking again. I sigh heavily. “I thought this would fix everything. I thought if I proposed, it would show her how serious I am, how much I care for her. But she didn’t believe me, she hated it. She called it a pity proposal.”

Michael's brow furrows in confusion as he glances back at the paparazzi, still clamoring for attention. “What do you mean she hated it? You just proposed to her in a nice, romantic restaurant! Girls love that shit!”

“I know!” I run a hand through my hair in frustration. “But she thinks I’m only doing this out of pity because of the pregnancy. She stormed out, and now I’m being humiliated infront of everyone. I thought I was doing a good thing, the right thing.”

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