Page 71 of Stick Work

“Grandma,” I blurt out quickly, my brain scrambling as my gaze goes from Grandma to the ring, to Taylor and back to Grandma. Oh God, I was wrong, this night has gone from crazy to unbelievable…or hilarious, if this really was one of Taylor’s beloved Adam Sandler’s romantic comedies. But it’s not. This is real life and Grandma just thinks I got down on one knee. I try again. “This isn’t…wasn’t…you weren’t supposed to?—”

Grandma cuts me off with a nod, her expression one of absolute delight. “You’re right. I wasn’t supposed to be watching,” she says waving a hand. “It’s a private moment. Please carry on.” Just like that she hurries off, no doubt to start the guest list.

I glance at Taylor, and her eyes are saucer-wide.

“She thinks—” I begin.

Taylor groans, and presses her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my god. I know what she thinks.”

I get to my feet, holding out the cheap plastic ring. “We can’t let her believe…”

“No.” She agrees quickly, wholeheartedly and I appreciate that. I think. “We need to set the record straight before she does something crazy, like call your parents.”

“Or Elvis.”

My stomach tightens, none of this sitting right and I’m not sure it’s just because Grandma read this unfortunate situation all wrong. “I can see how it looked, but does she really think I’d propose to you with a plastic ring?” I shake my head, nearly offended. “I’d never do that, Taylor. You deserve better. Surely, Grandma knows that.”

Taylor shrugs and plucks the ring from my hands. “I don’t know. It’s kind of cute and quirky. Perfect for a spontaneous Vegas wedding, don’t you think?” Before I can respond, she slips it onto her finger, holding out her hand to admire it. “What do you know?” She flashes me a grin. “It fits.”

My chest tightens and suddenly breathing seems to be a bit more difficult. For some unknown reason, I say, “Grandma has a ring…her ring. The one she’d want me to give my bride when the time came.”

“That…” she murmurs, her voice softer, warmer, “…is the sweetest thing, Elias.”

Okay that actually takes me by surprise. “You really think so?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Why, don’t you?”

“I always figured any woman would want her own ring. A big shiny one that she or her future husband picked out. Grandma’s ring is pretty old-fashioned.”

Taylor lifts a brow, giving me a look. “Maybe you don’t know women.”

I huff out a laugh. “I’m not going to disagree with you on that.”

Her expression softens. “It’s actually really sweet. Any girl would be lucky to have a ring that your grandmother wore and wanted to pass down. I love traditions like that.” She pauses her expression even softer, a longing in her eyes. “That’s not something that happens in my family. I wish things were different.” My throat tightens. I know she’s wishing her mother was still alive. “I want traditions. Kalen does too, which is why he tries so hard during the holidays.”

I watch her, something tightening in my chest. Needing to lighten things, I chuckle playfully…or maybe it’s not so playfully at all. “I guess it’s too bad I’m not giving Grandma’s ring to you then,” I half tease waiting for her response. What? Do I expect her to say she’d like it if I did ask her to marry me? Like it if I put Grandma’s ring on her finger? That’s just crazy wishful thinking at its finest. Or worst.

Taylor glances off to the side, and her shoulders drop with a sigh. “Should we go burst her bubble?” She looks back at me, worry etched into her face, her nose scrunched slightly. “God, I never wanted this to happen, Elias. Do you think this is going to really crush her?”

My stomach twists.

Dammit, why the hell did I ever listen to Roman? Not that it matters now. I’m the one who went forward with the plan. Whatever happens next—whatever the fallout from this misunderstanding—it’s on me.

“This isn’t your fault, T. Don’t ever think it is.”

She shifts from one foot to the other. “So you’re saying she is going to be crushed.”

I exhale harshly and run my fingers through my hair. “Unfortunately, I am.”

“Elias. We can’t do that.”

“I don’t want to, Taylor. But we can’t pretend we’re engaged or…” I force a hollow laugh. “… actually get married just to keep Grandma happy, right?”

Did I really just pose that as a question?

Taylor shoots me a pained look. “You’re right. Let’s go set the record straight.” I make a move to go, but she doesn’t budge. Instead she mutters something under her breath, tugging at her hand.

“I can’t get this off.” I glance down to see her struggling with the plastic ring. She yanks at it again, and again, her face twisting with frustration. “It must be the heat.” She holds her hand out to me.

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