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This is the magic moment we’ve waited for. The time when everything has the potential to go tits up.
Any second now, Haute could sense there’s something off. Then he can accuse us of lying and the deal goes up in smoke.
But if I’m supposed to be nervous, I don’t feel it.
That’s the scariest thing of all, maybe, because when Junie glances up at me with those big green eyes, half laughing at something Clara said, it feels easy. Calm. Relaxed, like this entire situation is natural.
“How long have you been together?” Clara asks Junie politely, clawing at her own engagement ring with a little too much enthusiasm.
“A little over half a year, give or take,” Junie says, leaning against my arm.
“Ohhh, so speedy.” Clara stares at Junie’s ring again. “Although I can’t talk. Forrest and I were engaged after three months, weren’t we?”
Haute starts like he’s forgotten we’re all there, and he slides his gaze away from Junie.
“That’s right. When you know, you know. A man shouldn’t wait too long to pounce.” He’s eyeing Junie as he says it, and why the fuck is he wearing that smile?
“When you know, you know,” Junie echoes flatly. “That’s how it was for us. One little fight over art and here we are, engaged.”
“How did you propose?” Clara asks brightly. “Was it romantic?”
I bite back a smile, knowinghowunromantic it really was, and Junie pinches my arm.
“It was very sweet,” she says. “He did the whole thing. It was private, which was fine by me, I’m not the type of girl for an audience. Flowers, a nice meal, then down on one knee.”
The down-on-one-knee part sounds right, at least. A spontaneous joke, but one I’m weirdly happy about now.
Clara clasps her hands together. “How sweet. Where’d you go for dinner?”
“It was a picnic, actually,” she throws out. We had a script, but now she’s going rogue. “This lovely little spot by the river. Not far from the Mill you boys are so invested in, I think.”
“The place couldn’t be better for romance. I know how much Junie loves picnics,” I say. A lie, but somehow, I’m sure they’re something she loves.
I know better than a few scripted bullet points.
More than I should.
It’s like I have a sixth sense for what truly gets her heart going or smothers her spirits.
When the hell did that happen?
“He made me cupcakes.” Junie beams me a twinkling glance I can’t quite interpret. “Pretty ones with butterflies on the top.”
Cupcakes? From me?
It’s so absurd I fight the urge to laugh in her face.
“Yes, cupcakes. It was my turn to bake her a treat, I suppose. Long story short, she said yes,” I tell them.
“What did he say?” Clara doesn’t even look at me, keeping her gaze fixed on Junie.
Haute sends me a long look that says he’s as disinterested in the conversation as I am. I never thought it’d be his wife raking us over the coals.
“It’s what he didn’t say, that’s the best part. He hid my ring in the middle of a cupcake,” Junie says, holding out her hand and smiling as the diamonds catch the light. “It was like something out of a movie. Once I got over the shock of biting down on the little plastic ball holding the ring, he got down on one knee and told me I was sweeter than any baking and he just had to spend the rest of his life with me.”
Clara looks like she’s about to faint from swooning.
“You’re just full of surprises, Rory. Never pictured you as a Casanova, though for her, I see why,” Haute says, never taking his eyes off Junie. “A beautiful gesture, to be sure,” he adds, almost like an afterthought.
