Page 89 of Just Friends

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Four days of relaxation had almost released all of the knots out of her back muscles. Rebecca would miss these lazy days when they returned to work. Still jobless, she’d spent the better part of the past nine weeks tending to Weasel and struggling to unclench from what had started as the worst year of her life. Weasel didn’t act like having a bullet put through his lung was a big deal, but the possibility of losing him after everything else, had left her shaken. Weasel repeatedly claimed that anyone walking in on the robbery would have gotten shot and it wasn’t because he was a cop, but she wasn’t so positive. He’d return to work shortly, and she was considering an offer from Ben and Brandon to be the executive chef of Huntington Farms. After problems with several caterers they wanted to bring the catering in-house. Of course, she’d take it, it was an amazing opportunity. Rebecca and Weasel now lived together, and luckily, she’d found someone to sublet her apartment since she couldn’t afford to continue paying rent.

The humidity left her hair a ball of frizz. Rebecca twisted it up and pinned it into a reasonable updo and stepped back to look at her dress in the bathroom mirror. It was a favorite, a simple frock, easy to throw on with a pair of flip flops, and off to dinner and a walk on the seashore. Weasel watched from the hall, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. “What?”

Weasel shook his head. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Rebecca bit back a laugh and tried not to roll her eyes. He mentioned things like that often, and it was embarrassing, but she never wanted to become used to it or take it for granted. She wanted to maintain this giddy feeling for as long as possible. Looking down, Weasel’s hand reflexively went to the hip.

“Still no gun, dear,” she said. Rebecca wasn’t clear which was more difficult for Weasel, the rehabilitation or not carrying a weapon.

He huffed. “I keep forgetting.”

“It’ll be back soon enough.”

“I know.” Weasel held out his hand. “Ready?”

They walked to a little beach-side seafood restaurant he’d picked out near their cottage. His eyes sparkled in the late afternoon sun playing off the pale blue polo shirt and stealing loving glances her way. To be fair, she couldn’t take her eyes off him either; he’d shaved his four-day-old beard. His dark blond locks lightened in the Florida sunlight, and he strolled down the street, his hand around hers relaxed, healthy, and like his old self.

“Has it been a good birthday so far?” she asked.

“The best.” Weasel tugged her hand to his lips and kissed it. They came to the boardwalk leading to the public beach. “Let’s go over here for a minute first,” he said.

Weasel led the way up the steps, and down the boardwalk they exited the other side to the waterfront and down to stroll along the water’s edge. “It was a Friday night in June five years ago,” he started. “I walked into The Bar to meet up with Ben. At the table, in the far back on the left, I found him with Hannah sitting there with the prettiest girl I’d ever seen. Wearing this light pink short-sleeved shirt and dark jeans.”

That was the night they met. “Weasel…” Smiling she shook her head, “You were wearing a black t-shirt that read ‘Bomb Squad: If I’m running try to keep up.’”

Weasel laughed. “You remember that?”

“Ridiculous shirt, but I thought you were cute.”

“Cute?” he sputtered. “You thought I was cute?”

Rebecca shrugged. “I tried flirting, but you never asked me out.”

Weasel looked in disbelief. “Well that settles it. Dalton’s right. I am a dumbass.” Rebecca laughed, and he kissed her hand and then, stopping, took both of hers. “Now we have all that nonsense squared away, I’m the luckiest man on earth. After getting to know you over the last few years and then even better over the last few months, I can say without a doubt, you are the love of my life. I know exactly what I want, and there’s no point in putting it off. There’s no one else that I’d rather be with, ever.”

Where was he going with this? It took him dropping to one knee in the sand before she knew what was happening. Rebecca’s mouth fell open, and she tried to close it but couldn’t.

“How about it?” he asked. “Me and you forever. Marry me?”

A smile spread across her face. Everything surrounding them had come to a standstill; people were waiting. “Yes,” she cried out laughing. “Of course.” Oh my gosh. He proposed. They were engaged.

Weasel stood, and she threw her arms around him, planting a kiss. The beachgoers clapped and some cheered. When she assumed they’d go on to the restaurant, he retrieved something out of his pocket and held it up to her—a diamond solitaire engagement ring.

Rebecca gasped. “When did you?”

Weasel beamed and shrugged. On the verge of squealing like a sorority girl, she drew a deep breath, trying to calm down and let him slide the ring on.

“You’re shaking,” he whispered.

“I’m so excited. I didn’t see this coming…” Grabbing him in another hug, she peered at the sparkly jewel; she was attempting to comprehend the turn of events. After a minute of embracing each other, she dropped her grasp.

“Dinner?” Weasel asked.

“Hang on; I have to tell Hannah and Autumn, first.” Rebecca pulled out her phone and struggled to steady it to take a picture of her ring.

“Let’s have some fun with it.”

“How so?”

“Let’s take it like a selfie of us, here.” Weasel grabbed the phone and, standing behind her, held it out to capture both of them with the ocean in the background. He draped an arm around her chest with his hand resting on her shoulder. “Put your hand on mine,” he instructed so that the engagement ring was at the bottom of the frame. “Let’s see how long they take to notice.”

Weasel snapped a picture that could have simplybeen a vacation selfie on the beach.

Rebecca texted the photo captioned “having a great time” to the group and smiled at her new fiancé. Their phones blew up with responses before they’d gotten to the restaurant.