Always the Last to Know by Kristan Higgins Page 0,4
such a good thing going. Before I changed my mind, I knelt down. Felt my tights catch on the rough surface of the walkway.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Alexander Mitchum, will you marry me and make me the happiest man—shit, I mean woman—alive?” The wind gusted again, blowing my hair into my face.
“Uh . . . what are you doing, Sadie?” His face was incredulous.
“I . . . I’m proposing.” My heart felt like the sun, abruptly swallowed in clouds. Do not make me go back on those dating websites, Alexander Mitchum.
“I’m the one who’s supposed to propose.”
“Okay! Sure. Go for it.” Thank God.
He laughed a little. “Well, babe . . . I’m not ready. There are things I need to have in place. A ring, for one.”
“We can get one later. Cartier is open till seven. Probably. Not that I checked.”
He laughed. “Well, I’d like to surprise you. When the time comes.”
“I’m down on one knee here, Alexander.”
“Get up, then! This is crazy.” He pulled me to my feet. I felt my tights tear. “You nut. It’s the man’s job to propose.”
Sexist, really. “It seemed like a good idea. I mean, we’ve been together two years. We’re the right age.” I forced a smile.
“What is the right age, really? Is there an age that’s wrong?” he asked, but he kissed my forehead. “I’ll do it when the time is right. Okay?”
Well, didn’t I feel stupid. “Okay.”
“I want the moment to be when we’re not freezing our asses off in the dark. Don’t worry. It’ll be perfect.”
My heart felt weird. Happy weird, or disappointed weird? “I mean, now that we’re talking about it . . . you could just . . . ask.”
“No. I want it to be really romantic. Not on a night so cold my balls are retracting.”
“Got it.”
In case there was any doubt that my plan sucked, those dark gray clouds opened and a cold rain started to fall.
“I’m gonna pass out if I don’t eat soon. Want to grab something, then go back to my place and fool around so we can salvage this night?”
“Sure.”
Feeling like a dolt, I followed him to the stairs that led to street level.
Alexander’s phone chimed. He studied it, then looked up. “Shit, babe,” he said. “I have to go up to Boston. That idiot Patriots player is pitching a fit over a painting of himself that was supposed to be hung on the ceiling over his bed, and the designer put it on the wall instead. What time is it? Damn. I’ll have to drive up tonight.” He looked at me. “Want to come? We could grab some fast food on the road and stay overnight. A suite at the Mandarin with some spa time tomorrow, maybe?”
That was the thing about Alexander. He was so thoughtful. But my feeling of ineptitude lingered.
“I think I’ll just go home. I have a painting due Sunday.”
“Gotcha.” We stood there awkwardly. “Want me to drive you home?
“Subway’s faster,” I said.
“Okay.”
“Well. Drive safely.”
“I will. Talk to you, babe.” He kissed me quickly and strode off.
It really was cold. I started walking toward Eighth Avenue to catch the subway. Soon, I’d be home. Maybe I’d take a shower to warm up. Order Thai food and work on that blue-and-white “like Van Gogh except not as swirly” painting I’d been commissioned to do. Bitter sigh, followed by the reminder to be grateful that I had these gigs at all and wasn’t living in a paper bag.
Just then, my phone rang. Juliet, who almost never called me. “Hi!” I said. “How are you?”
“Listen, Sadie,” she said, her voice strange, and instinctively, I stopped walking, my free hand covering my ear so I could hear her better. “Dad had a stroke. He’s in surgery at UConn, and it’s pretty bad. Get here as soon as you can.”
CHAPTER TWO
Barb
I was in a meeting with the head of the town crew, discussing his zealous use of salt so far this winter and the complaints about undercarriage rust I’d been fielding, when I got the call.
Yes, being first selectman of a small town in Connecticut was a nonstop thrill fest. I smiled at the thought. Truth was, I loved my job. Even moments like this.
It was my last appointment of the day, and I didn’t have any committee meetings tonight. Maybe I’d head over to Caro’s if John was already parked in front of whatever war documentary he was watching these days. If she didn’t have plans, that was.