Page 31 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

Instead, I stayed there, thumb still pressed against her lip, watching her pupils dilate.

She swallowed hard.

I cleared my throat and jerked back as if I had been burned.

She did the same, sitting ramrod straight, suddenly very interested in her napkin.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“Yeah. No problem.”

What the fuck was that?

I needed to do it now, before I lost my nerve. Again.

I reached into my pocket. The same pocket in my Tom Ford jacket (which Deepika had ruined) and pulled out the small box I had been carrying around for years.

Deepika’s eyes landed on it immediately. “What is that?” She asked, her tone accusatory, as if a bug would come out to scare her.

“I’ve had this for years,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended. “I’ve been meaning to give it to you.”

I opened the box, and inside was a ring. An ornate and vintage ring with delicate gold filigree work that twisted around a center stone. Small diamonds dotted the band like captured starlight, and the gold had that warm, aged patina that only came from decades of wear and love. It was beautiful and feminine. It was a ring that told a story.

“Is that…” she started, her lips parting.

“Your grandmother’s ring,” I confirmed, feeling heat rush to my face. “The one you lost in the pool when we were eight.”

I scratched the back of my neck, unable to meet her eyes, suddenly feeling like I was eight years old again and confessing to breaking something expensive.

“I found it the next day at the bottom of the pool. I was going to give it back to you, but…” I laughed awkwardly. “You pushed me in again the day after, and I got mad and kept it. Then you stopped visiting, and I just... I felt guilty. I’ve been carrying it around for years. I had it resized a few years ago, thinking I’d finally give it back, but I chickened out every time I saw you.”

When I finally looked up, tears were streaming down her face. They were not angry tears or frustrated tears, but deep and genuine ones.

Oh no. I didn’t mean to make her cry.

“Liam,” she whispered.

I held the ring out to her, and that’s when everything went wrong.

My trembling fingers chose that exact moment to slip, and the ring tumbled from my grip.

I lunged forward, desperate to catch it, and somehow ended up on one knee beside the booth, the ring clutched in my hand, looking up at Deepika who was crying and beautiful and completely blindsided.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” I said sincerely.

She smiled through her tears, and it was the most genuine smile I’d ever seen from her. “It’s okay. We were both pretty stupid.”

Neither of us moved.

I should have stood up and sat back down. Done literally anything except stay there on one knee, looking up at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

But I didn’t.

And she didn’t tell me to move.

That’s when the diner staff noticed.

“Oh, my GOD!” a server squealed. “He’s proposing!”