Page 138 of The Reason I Married Him
Wait, where is the ring?
I feel around in my pocket, coming up short.
“Do you have the ring?” Ethel asks through clenched teeth.
“I thought I did.” I pat my pockets and then reach into them again.
Oh God, the ring was in there. Did it fall out when I tumbled out of the train?
I start searching the ground, looking around, scanning, but I don’t see anything.
“This isn’t funny,” Ethel says. “You’re ruining the moment.”
Don’t need the added pressure, Ethel!
“I thought I had it in my pocket. I put it . . .” My finger grazes over something metal when my fingers search my pocket once more. “Oh wait, here it is.” I pull it out, and I lift it to show Ethel. The crowd around us cheers, congratulating me on my stupidity.
Meanwhile, Aubree stands there, frozen, watching me look like an absolute fool.
Isn’t she lucky?
Clearing my throat, completely ready now, I kneel on one knee and hold the ring up to her as if I’m Rafiki, showing Simba off to Pride Rock.
Ethel steps forward and holds the microphone up to my mouth so the entire town can hear me confess my fake love to this woman who looks like she would like to crawl into her own dress.
And yes, as I look up at the way she tugs on the corner of her lip with her teeth and the blush in her cheeks, I realize this wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had. Everyone quiets down and waits for me to make a grand speech about my undying love for this woman. You know, sometimes as an author, you create these large scenes in your head, thinking it will be one of the greatest things you ever write, that it will add brilliantly to the storyline you’re creating, but when they play out, they might not go as planned. They might fall flat.
They might end up terribly on the page.
And for me, it might not be executed the way I initially thought.
This is easily one of the weirdest, most embarrassing things I’ve ever been a part of.
But I go with the flow because, if anything, I’m flexible.
Hopefully, Aubree is too.
“Aubree,” I say as I feel myself wobble from being on my knee longer than I want and holding up this damn ring. I should have talked to her first and then gotten down on my knee. Mistakes. All mistakes. “When I heard that I was part owner of the Rowley farm, I had no idea that deed would open me up to a love I’ve been looking for all my life.”
“Aw,” the crowd all coos together.
At least I have them on my side.
“Our first conversation was, well, angry at best.” Chuckles. Yup, they’re invested. “Our second was much different. I got to know you better, you got to know me, and quickly, you became who I wanted to talk to in the morning, during the day, and at night before bed. I found myself falling for someone I never saw coming. And now that I have you in my life, now that I can call you mine, call you my love, I never want to let go of that.”
I shift on my knee, my arms burning from holding up this damn ring.
Aubree just stares down at me—still in shock, still blushing.
Please, Jesus, let her say yes. After all of this, let her say yes.
“So, Aubree Rowley, will you do me the greatest honor and be my wife?”
It takes her one second longer than I prefer to answer, but when she does, she nods, and the crowd erupts in jubilation around us.
Ethel takes the microphone and shouts, “She said yes!”
More cheering sounds off.
