Page 99 of Mr. Big Shot

“Yes. Now. Yesterday. Last week. Last month. But not tomorrow. It’s now or never.”

She swallows and nods. “Okay.”

“If I don’t…” I shake my head. “I don’t know. I’ll make a scene, cry by the wedding cake or something.”

“Hudson. You’ll cry?”

“I—I don’t know what this is supposed to feel like, but it’s kind of horrible.” I sound desperate. “I could throw up.”

Concern mars her delicate features. She rushes toward me. “Did you eat something weird?”

“No! I’m in love! I thought that was perfectly obvious.”

She gasps.

Steps back.

Shakes her head. “That’s…no. That was not clear in any way.” Her brows tug together in consternation. “Who are you in—”

I bark out a laugh. She’s kidding. She has to be kidding. I thrust my hand out toward her. “You! Scarlett. You, of course.”

She smiles, her eyes already welling with tears. “Oh.” A short laugh. “I wasn’t sure. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely certain of it. I just told your parents.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

The question bursts out of her, drawing a few curious stares from nearby wedding guests.

“I didn’t plan it like that. It just happened. I felt it was important that your father know.”

“But what about your promotion?” She covers her mouth in horror. “Oh no, Hudson.” She shakes her head adamantly. “No. I won’t let you suffer because of this. Your work is all you care about.” She’s already taking my hand like she’s going to tug me over to her father and fix things this very second. “I’ll explain everything to him, take full blame. We’re going to get you that promotion if it’s the—”

I resist her tugging and instead, loop my hand around hers, keeping us where we are. I wait until she looks back at me, to be sure she’s listening. “I don’t care about it.”

“You what?”

“It’s absurd.” I laugh. It’s pure joy like I’ve never felt. Oh my god, I’ve gone horribly soft, and worse, I don’t even care. “The promotion doesn’t matter, Scarlett. It’s you I want, with profound, unwavering certainty. Please say you want me too, say this isn’t one-sided. I really will cry. It feels like the worst agony. Lucy said it’s supposed to get better, but—”

“You’ve discussed this with Lucy.”

“Yes. I thought I had the flu at first.”

Scarlett considers this. “Is that why you were sick the other day?”

“Yes.” I shrug. “Lovesick, I guess.”

“Love…” She mulls the word over like it’s still shocking to hear.

“Love,” I confirm.

I watch her hard facade splinter. Those steely eyebrows, that determined set of her jaw—gone, in an instant. Her chin wobbles, and she releases a weak little “Oh.”

And though it’s insane and hokey, I get the sudden realization that I would—if I had the ring in my pocket already—drop down to my knee on this dance floor and ask her to marry me on the spot. Later, when I do propose—because I know I will—I’ll tell her that. I’ll tell her I wanted to do it right here and now.

“I love you too, actually,” Scarlett tells me, her voice full of bewildered surprise.

“Is it so shocking?”

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