Page 9 of Valentine's Day Proposal

I set the coffee on her desk. “Peace offering.”

“For being late?” She picked up the coffee and pulled the lid off, her smile brightening at the site of the heart shape crafted through the foam. She took a deep inhale and sighed. “Just the way I like it.”

“No, not for being late.” I sipped my own coffee and shifted from one foot to the other. “For this.” I wiggled my ring finger on my left hand, showing off the gold band now gracing it. Nothing fancy for me, just a simple golden band, but it meant something. I watched Mel wilt, her bright smile falling into a look of hurt, then concern.

The concern I understood. Mel was as close as sister, and honestly, she had been a major contributor in my life for years. She probably felt personally stilted by my decision to marry without consulting her first. Especially given our conversation after Peter’s visit to the office. I perched on the edge of a chair, setting my briefcase down as I shrugged out of my trench coat.

“I know what you’re thinking, but Melody, they’re giving us two-hundred grand. We could easily expand to Norfolk with that amount of money, Williamsburg, Alexandria, you name it. We just needed a bit of capital and in one year’s time, with what we can save from the firm, invested properly, and add to that this payment…”

“Oh, Willow.” She shrank back into her chair, setting her coffee down like it had offended her. Gone was her beaming happiness. She had retreated inward so far I hardly recognized her. She sat shaking her head.

“What? It’s literally just a business arrangement. I put my personal life on hold for a while. No big deal.” And during this time, I could also test Mel too, to see if she would be a good partner, if she was trustworthy.

“I don’t think you understand, but that’s okay.” Mel rubbed her forehead and offered me a pathetic smile. I could tell it was forced, but I didn’t know why. I sipped my coffee again, studying her crestfallen features. Mel was always supportive, encouraging, and upbeat. Seeing her down made me feel down too.

“Don’t be upset with me. This is exactly what we wanted, to build the firm and expand. So instead of dishing out a percentage of our profit for the next 10 years, we will have the money upfront. I just have to endure a fake marriage for a year tops.”

“Six months after the election is what the guy said.”

“Peter? Yes, well Charles and I will make that decision when we feel it’s necessary.” I squared my shoulders, glad to see her perk up a bit.

Mel sat straight, pushing her coffee to the side a bit and readjusting her mouse. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed.” She frowned. “But maybe the money would be a good thing for us—I mean the firm.” She winced and I suddenly understood why she was so disappointed.

The first time I met Mel, her job interview, she had come on to me. I knew who she was; I’d always known. I just didn’t realize she liked me. Again, for the second time this morning I felt like a fool. The first time had been easy to navigate. I just left the apartment and didn’t wake Charles. No need to face that shame.

But this shame was one I hadn’t seen coming. Mel thought she had a chance with me, and her discouraging me from marrying Charles was her way of trying to tell me. She was trying to save me from heartbreak and for herself all at once. I hadn’t even realized.

“Look, I should get to work.” I stood, not wanting to make matters worse. I picked up my briefcase and slung my trench coat over my arm. “It’s going to work out, and we are going to grow the firm. You and me.”

Mel perked up, a smile returning to her face, though it was still reserved. She nodded. “Best friends…”

“Never anything less.”

I walked out of her office and toward my own feeling like a sack of shit. I’d hurt my best friend's feelings inadvertently, created a very awkward living situation which would likely devolve into another argument when I got home, and made everything that much more stressful. This year couldn’t go by fast enough.

9

CHARLES

Ihad been pacing the living room for more than a half an hour, waiting for Willow to get home. She had insisted that she had errands to run and would be running late. I hadn’t expected her to struggle in, haggard and drooping. Peter’s driver followed her in, carrying several bags of groceries and an umbrella over her head. The rain was supposed to have mixed to snow already, but for her sake I was glad it hadn’t yet. The steps outside could be a bitch.

“What on earth is all of this?” I opened bags of groceries, sending droplets of water dripping to the counters as I sorted through what she’d bought. “The fridge was already stocked.” I pulled out a carton of almond milk and thought about making a gag-reflex face at her, but I forgot she had a thing about dairy.

“You don’t get the sort of food I eat, so I bought my own.” She shook her coat off, sending water flying everywhere, and slipped a bill of unknown amount into the driver’s hand. “Thanks.” She smiled as he nodded and backed out of the apartment.

“You don’t tip the driver, Willow. He’ll get used to that and it will cost you a fucking fortune.” I buried myself in the groceries, finding a pack of tofu bacon. I grimaced, held it up, and looked at her.

She yanked the bacon out of my hand and scowled. “Stay out of my stuff. Am I going to have to label this, so you’ll keep your hands off?” The way she got defensive was cute. She was about as independent as they came, and she made no apologies for that.

“This shit? Are you crazy?” I chuckled as she pulled out dairy free cream cheese and set it next to her bacon. I’d forgotten how she liked to eat clean. Sure, for dinners and events she would eat what was put in front of her, but she treated her body like a temple. In fact, I wondered why she hadn’t been out running all week. We were on day six and I hadn’t seen her go out once yet.

“Good, because it’s expensive and I don’t share.”

She seemed in a very foul mood, which meant she probably wouldn’t like what I had to say. I backed away, giving her a bit of space. I knew it was going to be a touchy conversation anyway, so letting her calm down a bit was my only path forward. It was that or rip the bandage off and hope for the best.

I sat in her reading spot and glanced down at the book she was reading. It had a picture of a bare-chested man holding a woman in a dip, her hair dangling from her head. Some sort of smut book if you asked me, but whatever met her fancy. More had changed about her than I had even realized. Her age lines and silver streaks had come with a hard edge to her personality. She took shit off of no one, including me. The way she’d locked me out of the room without even a care in the world—the old Willow would never have done that. And this strange creature hoarding tofu and dairy less cheeses like Gollum with his ring scared me a little.

When she shuffled out of the kitchen and plopped on the couch with a pint of ice cream, I shook my head. “You don’t do dairy, but you’re eating ice cream?” Sometimes I felt like she was a walking contradiction.

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