Page 4 of The Wrong Proposal

The first step of a happy ever after thrills me, even if it’s not mine.

* * *

The following afternoon,I’m prepping the same setting for a couple I don’t know.

What is his girlfriend’s favorite scent?To be safe, I use vanilla-scented candles.What flowers does she like?I decided I couldn’t go wrong with red roses. And appetizers—is she allergic? Gluten or dairy intolerant?

I’ve been stressed all morning trying to make an imperfect situation perfect because he has one chance to impress the love of his life, yet he’s acted on instinct by liking what I did. Nothing is personalized to them as a couple.

After I finish setting up, I leave a mixture of foods with labels on packets so the couple can read the ingredients used. Then, at a safe distance, I roll out a towel, sit, and wait.

I scroll on my cell phone and sneak glances like a shepherd protecting her sheep.

A half-hour passes.

Ugh. Did I do this for nothing?

He paid me well—too well. I catch a glimpse of a couple holding hands, walking close to the water’s edge. The woman is wearing a cocktail dress, her strappy heels in her hand. Sunlight shines from the diamonds around her neck, light reflecting like shards of glass as it moves back and forth. Mr. Handsome is wearing a suit jacket, white shirt, dark tie, and his trousers are rolled to his knees. His dress shoes are in his other hand.

Why did he pick the beach and not a fancy restaurant?

I shake sand from the towel before retreating to my car.

I recline in my seat and close my eyes.

Maybe Hugh is right.

Making other people happy could be my side hustle.

* * *

My cell beeps with a message,waking me. The sun is lower in the sky, and the filtered light through the clouds is enough to lull me into a deeper sleep than I wanted.

I open the message from Zara.

How did the suit guy go?

I fell asleep longer than I should have. Heading down to the beach to pack up now.

With my cart in tow, I head back down to the beach as the sunlight fades.

Seagulls have gathered near my setting. I rush over and shoo them away from the food left on the table. Despite the birds, I don’t have a good feeling. The wooden sign is lying flat in the sand. Hardly any of the food has been touched, and the candles are out.

Shit. I messed up.

His fiancée hated it.

Then I see the note in the basket with more cash.

Thank you for creating something wonderful.

I waited for you, but I had to leave.

F.H.

He waited for me?

I told him I didn’t want any more money.

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