Page 94 of No More Heartbreakers

He wasn’t acting quite… normal. Well, I was a bit nervous, too. I’d never done the relationship post-mortem thing, having onlyoneother relationship in the rear-view, and God knew there’d been no closure on that one.

It was so much better to end things this way, civilly and sanely.

“I’m glad you called. I think it’s a great idea for us to talk things over,” I said.

I’d expected the two of us to grab a couple of barbeque sandwiches at the Butt Hutt, or maybe go to a cute little joint like Clocked for some burgers. But Hale had somehow gotten us reservations at one of Athens’ nicest places.

Not that I was complaining. I sipped my Chardonnay and looked up from my menu to take in the restaurant’s casual but classy atmosphere, the exposed painted ductwork overhead, the local art, the dark leather booths and antique chandeliers, a mix of historic and chic combining to create a perfect date-night ambience.

But this wasn’t a date. As Hale continued to fiddle with his silverware and dart glances at me over his own menu, I began to wonder whether he realized that.

The waiter came back with our appetizer, freshly made hummus with flatbread and marinated olives, and took our dinner orders. Hale decided on the hangar steak, and I went with the National’s famous shrimp and grits.

As we enjoyed the meal, I kept waiting for him to bring up the topic that was our reason for being here. He was the one who’d suggested getting together, and honestly, I had no idea how to begin a talk like this.

But Hale kept the conversation light, filling me in on the latest challenges he faced with his family’s farming and ranching business, something he’d always been passionate about.

After his older brother had opted out of the Gentry family birthright and moved as far away as he could get, Hale had taken up the gauntlet with impressive dedication.

By the time we finished our entrees, it seemed like all non-breakup-related conversation had been exhausted, and I was actually sneaking glances at my watch.

It was getting late. Aric might be driving past my apartment, checking on me and wondering where I was.

Wondering why I was spending so long with my ex-boyfriend.

“Let’s order dessert.”

Hale’s eyes held a mischievous sparkle that surprised me. He’d always been more of an apps man than a dessert fan.

“I really shouldn’t. My meal was huge, and I should be getting back home,” I said. “It’s an hour drive to Peachtree Valley from here, and then you’ll still have another hour to go back to Madison.”

“Come on. It won’t take that long. We can share one. Just look at the menu,” he cajoled.

As if on cue, our waiter returned with two dessert menus and shoved one into my hand. Still shaking my head in protest, I took the menu from him and opened it.

There were three options listed with photos beside them. Southern Pecan Cheesecake, Chocolate Lava cake with vanilla bean sorbet, and—the last item description had been covered over with a folded slip of paper.

The photo beside it was not of a dessert but a beautiful, and very large, diamond solitaire ring.

My stomach dropped. What was this? I reached for the folded paper with trembling fingers and opened it.

Inside, written in Hale’s distinctive handwriting, were four words and a question mark.

Will you marry me?

My heartbeat jumped from digesting-a-rich-meal comatose into horror-movie-running-for-my-life pounding.

I blinked several times, fighting through a whirling sense of panic to make sense of what my orbital nerve was trying to tell my brain.

Whatever the elusive message was, it wasn’t good.

“See anything you like?” Hale asked.

I looked up at him, feeling as if my eyes were bulging from my head. He wore an eager smile and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I…” No other words came out, only a wheezing, choking noise.

Oh God.This wasn’t happening.

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