Page 70 of Keeping It Professional

“Don’t take Jones’s Friday shift.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

“Because, don’t, okay? I want to go out.”

She raised a brow. “Like,out-out? Where we dress up?”

“Yeah, so no work. No errands for your mom. Six o’clock sharp, I want you in your dancing shoes.”

We rarely touched on the job, but she set her coffee aside. She leaned over and kissed me, soft on my cheek. “Can’t wait,” she said.

I couldn’t wait either. It was like I told Brian over hospital sandwiches, gulped down on a break between back-to-back shifts: that’s how I knew she was the one.

“I see her every day, and I still get that flutter. I still can’t wait to get home to her, when we’re not together. Like tonight, I’m covering. She’s with her mom. She’ll text when she gets there so I know she’s okay, and I’ll feel my phone buzz, and myheart almosthurts. That’s how much I miss her when she’s not around.”

“So, what are you waiting for?” He nodded at my pocket. I’d shown him the ring the day I bought it, a big tear-shaped ruby in a cluster of diamonds. Red, because that was her favorite color.

“The perfect moment. It has to be right.”

Brian narrowed his eyes at me. “You aren’t scared, are you? Because, if you are, she’s going to say yes. I’ve seen how she looks at you, and?—”

“I’m not scared.” I scoffed at the notion, but part of mewasscared. Part of me still couldn’t believe this was real. Every day with her was better than without, even the ones where we squabbled and picked. How did I deserve this? How could anyone? I’d work every day to make myself worthy. To make her as happy as she made me.

“Just ask her,” said Brian. “You’ll be glad you did.”

I picked her up Friday at six, and I took her to dinner at this fancy new fusion place. We ate tiny morsels from tiny plates and laughed at the squiggles of spicy red sauce. Sophie leaned in to whisper,isn’t this just hot sauce?I muffled a snort, because she was right. The taste was identical to Joe’s Flaming Hot, ten bucks at Costco for a package of five. Still, the meal was delicious, the dessert light and sweet. I’d meant to propose to her over soufflé, but she leaned in and winked at me.

“You know what I just realized?”

I slipped the ring away. “What?”

“We had our first date just two blocks from here. That little place with the plants and the bread bowls. And that naked bulb that kept going out.”

I smiled at the memory. “The Hungarian Spoon.”

“And then after that, we hit the arcade. And you kicked my ass atDirt Bike Frenzy.” Sophie pulled a face. “Total beginner’s luck, you hitting that ramp.”

“You think?”

“Iknow.”

Our eyes locked. I grinned. “Then, how about it? Rematch?”

We paid for our food and ran out of there laughing, Sophie still taunting me about my beginner’s luck. A light snow was falling, just like our first date. She was somehow more beautiful than she had been that night, more beautiful every day than the day before. More sweet and more funny, more warm. More kind.

She turned at the bikes with snow in her hair, and her eyes sparkled. Her smile made me weak.

“So, what’s my prize when I kick your ass?”

I winked at her. “Kick it and see.”

We hopped on our bikes, and it turned out she was right: my early victory had come down to chance. In terms of skill, she clearly outranked me, and she won our first round by a full lap. Our second round, I got close, then she shot me down a ravine.

“Best out of five?” I gasped.

“I’ll own you all night!”

Sure enough, our third round, she let me outpace her, only to sail over me to snatch the win. She slid off her bike laughing, flushed from the ride. “So, what do I win?”

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