Page 43 of Valentine's Day Proposal

CHARLES

Willow looked stunning in the black form-fitting dress. Back in the day, maternity clothes looked like tents draped around the abdomen of a woman who waddled uncomfortably. None of those things were true about her tonight. Not only did she have class and poise, but the sequined gown hugged every curve, accentuating the baby bump and making my dick stiff.

Her hair had been straightened, hanging longer than I remembered it. She had only a touch of makeup, and her bare shoulders and low-cut top were the perfect backdrop for the pearls that clung to her neck. I was speechless the moment she walked into the restaurant. As she approached the table, guided by the host, I rose to meet her.

“Charles,” she said, accepting a kiss on the cheek as I leaned in.

I had to restrain myself. My greedy hands wanted to pull her in, find the places that made her feel amazing and never let her go. “Willow,” I replied, sitting as the host helped her with her chair. “I ordered a sparkling water for you. I hope that’s okay.”

She smiled, setting her clutch to the side. She eyed the manilla envelope on the table next to me, but I remained fixed on her. This entire night was about her, for her. When she had agreed to dine with me, I knew it would be my last chance. The statement to the press had worked, though differently than I thought it would. I hadn’t expected her to walk up on the thing. I thought I’d make the statement and ask her to call me. But there she was.

“So, an Italian place, huh?” She smiled, picking up the menu.

“Yeah, I sort of asked Mel what you were craving. I figured you were at that point in the pregnancy where food was the devil.”

She laughed, a huge smile on her face. “That was much earlier on. Or did you forget the plane ride?”

“How could I forget?” I sighed, pushing away my feelings about having been kept in the dark about her pregnancy. I reminded myself once again, that this was my last shot to make it right with her.

“I think I’ll have some alfredo.” She made the statement just as the waiter walked up, and he was already writing it down.

“Would you like to add chicken or shrimp?” His pen was ready to write but she shook her head. “For you, sir?”

“I’ll have the New York Strip, baked potato and house veggies is fine.”

“How would you like that?” he asked, poised to write.

“Medium is fine. And we’d like to be interrupted as little as possible. Thank you.”

The waiter nodded and walked away, and Willow reached for the annulment papers. She had a sad expression as she opened the envelope, looking over them.

“You know, I thought this was the end, Charles. I really did. I thought that even though I did everything you asked, you were really done with me.” The papers slid back into the envelope, and she laid it back down. She held her head erect, shoulders squared, but I could tell she was emotional.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, Willow. If I could do it all over again, I’d have told you the minute I realized I was still in love with you. That first time we made love.”

She grimaced and looked away for a minute then turned back to me. “You mean when you tossed a credit card at me and made me feel like a cheap whore?”

I winced. “I deserved that.” I rubbed my forehead then picked up the folder. In one swift movement, I tore it in two, finally using my built-up anger for something useful instead of destructive. “I don’t want out.” I laid the pieces to the side, capturing Willow’s hand in mine.

“And if I do?”

Her gaze was steady, locked on my face, but I looked down. Something was different about her hand. The other day when I held her hand and kissed it, she was not wearing a ring. But tonight, her wedding ring was on her finger. I twisted it in my fingers and swallowed hard.

“You don’t.”

“You don’t know anything.” Her tone remained firm.

“I know you love me. I know you have been through hell and a lot of it was my fault. I know I don’t know everything, but I do know you.” I looked up at her face, tears gleaming in her eyes. It was now or never. I slid off my chair, dropping to one knee. I had meant to wait until much later in the night for this, but the opportunity was here and now, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

“Willow, when I asked you to marry me eight years ago, I really thought it was the right time. We were perfect for each other. We had so much in common, our whole lives ahead of us. We were in love, and we were everything the other one wanted and needed. But I fucked up.”

She sighed, blinking her eyes hard. I could tell she was trying not to cry. I just didn’t know if it was the sort of crying that ended in a happily ever after, or the sort where I was left on my knee watching her walk out.

“We went our own ways, and we grew up a lot. Both of us. And you turned out to be even more perfect than I ever imagined you to be.” I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. We were married, for Christ’s sake. Why was I so nervous? “This past year taught me a lot of things. Mostly that I hadn’t grown up as much as I thought I had.”

Willow smiled and blinked again, a tear escaping. She swiped it away and rested her hand on mine. I knew we were drawing attention in the room, but I ignored the gawkers and focused on her.

“I learned that I am wrong sometimes. I learned that you hate taking second shower.” She grinned, and I continued. “And I learned that even when love is strong and deep, it can still hurt. And I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you more often, or soon enough. I’m sorry I left you all that time ago, and I’m sorry that I didn’t try to find you.

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