Page 86 of Guys Can't Write Romance
By the time they arrived at the restaurant that evening, Daisy’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts over what Ethan’s ‘big news’ might be.
One minute she was thinking, what if it’s a proposal? How would she react to that? Did she even want it to be that? Then, in the next minute, she was thinking, what if it wasn’t a proposal? And how would she react to that?
She looked out the windshield as Ethan pulled up to the elegant restaurant, Maison Laurent. Soft lighting came from within, spilling past the doorman waiting to usher people inside. A line of luxury cars idled at the valet stand out front. Ethan had bragged about the restaurant several times, about how it was nearly impossible to get into and required reservations weeks in advance. It was the kind of place where important people came, and important things happened.
And Daisy felt completely out of place.
She pressed her hand against her stomach, trying to breathe evenly as Ethan circled the car to open the passenger door for her.
“You okay?” Ethan asked, watching her as she stepped out onto the curb and smoothed her little black dress. If Ethan noticed it, or her hair, which she’d spent an hour on to get the soft curls to fall just right across her shoulders and back, he didn’t mention it.
“I’m fine,” Daisy lied quickly, offering a small, tight smile. “Just curious about this big news of yours.”
He smiled, and it was full of that confident certainty he always carried so naturally. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s everything you’ve been waiting for.”
The restaurant was sleek and understated, the kind of place where the tablecloths were pressed so tightly they looked like paper, and the menus arrived with no actual prices. Crystal glasses gleamed in the light from recessed overhead fixtures, and the faint clink of silverware on fine china blended with the soft murmur of conversations.
Daisy felt out of place the moment the host led them to their table. Ethan settled into his chair with the ease of familiarity, requesting the wine list while Daisy sat stiffly across from him.
“So,” she said, fumbling slightly as she unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. “Big news?”
Ethan glanced up from the lengthy wine list, his expression relaxed. He was clearly in no hurry. “In a minute,” he said, before turning his attention back to the wine list. “Let’s order first. You know how I feel about rushing important conversations.”
For Daisy, the wait was excruciating. By the time their food arrived, she was ready to scream. She watched Ethan take measured bites while he kept the conversation to mainly boring small talk about his day. Daisy really had nothing tosay, so she picked at her food, giving an occasional nod in acknowledgement of what he just said.
Finally, after what felt like years, Ethan set his fork down and smiled.
“Okay,” he said. “Ready for the big news?”
Daisy’s pulse kicked up a notch. She gripped her knife tighter, willing herself not to blurt out anything ridiculous.
“Yes,” she said, though her voice came out uneven. “What is it?”
“The firm has decided to promote me to head of mergers and acquisitions,” he announced, his chest puffing slightly. “In New York.”
The words took a moment to penetrate. New York?
“The position opens up next month. It’s an incredible opportunity. Corner office, significant salary bump, real influence in the industry.” His eyes gleamed. “We’ll be able to afford a place in Manhattan. Maybe the Upper East Side.”
“We?” Daisy’s voice sounded distant to her own ears.
“Of course. You’ll come with me.” He said. “I’ve already looked into some private schools where you might be able to teach. Although with my new salary, you wouldn’t need to work at all.”
The room seemed to tilt slightly. “You’ve already looked into schools?”
“Well, someone had to start planning.” He took a sip of his wine. “Though honestly, this might be the perfect opportunity for you to move on from teaching. It’s a noble profession, of course, but with our new social circle, your time might be better spent on other activities.”
“Our new social circle,” Daisy repeated numbly.
“Exactly. The wives of my colleagues tend to focus more on charity work, museum boards, that sort of thing. Much more suitable.”
The dessert arrived, a sliver of chocolate mousse that was barely large enough to feed an ant. Daisy stared at it, feeling slightly sick.
“And your writing, of course,” Ethan continued, peeling off a slice of mousse with his fork, “would need to take a back seat. The social obligations alone will keep you quite busy.”
Something inside Daisy cracked. “My writing isn’t a hobby, Ethan.”
He looked up, surprised by her tone. “Oh, come now, Daisy. Be practical. You’ve been working on your romance novels for how long? And what’s come of it?”
