So that was it. He was giving me a choice between Grandma Mae’s cottage and him. The tears started coming. But I could fix up this place all by myself. How did that saying go? Sometimes a girl’s gotta slay her own dragons. Wait, that was Carol’s advice. Never mind. I was too stunned to talk.
He used his thumb to wipe a tear from under my eye. “So that’s when I decided to stop being so stubborn. Between your business and my business, there’s no time for casual dating.”
I steeled myself for the next words.
“I think I could help you much more if I moved in.”
“Excuse me?”
“Share the expenses. Help with the work. At least we’d be able to see each other more often.”
“You want to live here.”
He nodded.
“With me?”
He started nodding again, then stopped as his cheeks flushed red. “No, oh, Audrey, this is coming out so badly. What I meant, I mean, what I wanted . . .” He sent me a sheepish smile, then slid off the sofa and onto one knee, sending the floorboard into convulsions of agony. He pulled a ring box out of his pocket and fumbled to open it. “It’s not elaborate,” he said. “It’s kind of been in the family.” Inside the box was a simple solitaire.
“Audrey Bloom, I love you. Would you marry me?”
“Nick, I . . .” My brain flooded with emotions. Leave it to me, who once misinterpreted a breakup date for a proposal, to be unprepared for a proposal while expecting a breakup date.
But here was this nervous guy on one knee before me, ring in hand, ready to brave life with me. And scarier, live in this place.
“I . . . yes. Yes, Nick, I will marry you.”
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Floral Depravity Page 27
