Page 1 of Miss Behaved
1
Monica
I’vewrittenenoughhappilyever afters to know a proposal when I see one.
The soft glow of candles in a dark room, rose petals sprinkling the floor, Miguel on the stereo. Hammering hearts, starry eyes, bubbles of anticipation.
And this time, it’s mine.
My moment, my happily ever after.
Steven must have gotten my text after all. I wasn’t sure if it went through, as I’d flipped my phone to airplane mode right before takeoff. When I landed in Seattle, I expected at least an acknowledgment that I would be home from my book signing early, even if he couldn’t pick me up. But there was nothing, and now I know why. He was setting up this surprise and making it all finally worth it.
The bad dates. The deadbeat boyfriends. The swiping left and right.
It’s my time to wave goodbye to dating in the proverbial rearview mirror, because my moment has come.
I drop my purse on the table by the front door and do a little shimmy to get it out of my system. Wouldn’t want to ruin the actual moment with my dorky dancing.
Yassss, girl!
The crowd cheers as I give my inner self a high five and try to gather as much composure as I can in a moment like this. My insides are buzzing like a hive of bees ready to make their escape. I push my curls out of my face and roll my shoulders back to take a deep breath.
Steven and I haven’t been dating long—a month at best. Nowhere near my longest relationship. I’d describe it as more of a whirlwind romance where timing is concerned. And even if I didn’t think we were at this stage of the game quite yet, artists are known for their bleeding hearts, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
Mrs. Connors.
I try on his last name in my head, and it makes my stomach do a tumble. I wonder how long it will take me to get used to another name at the end of mine. This is more than a pen name, carefully tweaked until it sounded right—Monica Meadows, romance author.
This is bigger. Legal.
Monica Connors.
Connors.
It’s an all right last name. Easy to spell, at least. And taking it on won’t change much, since I’ll still keep my pen name for publishing. But that doesn’t stop the pang of emotion that rises up from somewhere in my gut.Do I need to change my name?Maybe I’ll find a way to mash them together instead.
Monica Connors.
Monica Lopez Connors.
Monica Connors Meadows.
Monica C. Meadows.
M. C. Meadows.
I’ll figure it out later. What sort of person worries about last names when the love of their life is about to propose?
At least, I think that’s what he is.
Should I be sure he’s the love of my life walking in, or will the feeling grow over time? Steven is smart, funny, charming. But our love isn’t the kind that blows in like a hurricane and rattles everything up. It’s more like moss, slowly carpeting the forest. Comfortable.
What’s wrong with you?
Grab this fairy tale by the horns and stop overthinking!
The song changes on the stereo, snapping me out of my spiral. Taking a deep breath, I look once more around the room. A row of rose petals leads down the entry hall and into the living room. The curtains are pulled wide to show off the lights of Seattle below. Moonlight streaks into the apartment.
