and I got the strangest feeling he was talking more to himself than to me.
A cab waited for us at the curb and whisked us off to a fancy, romantic restaurant. This was the kind of proposal I’d hoped for when he’d made the first offhand remark about getting married. It had all the right ingredients, right out of a diamond commercial. I wondered when the big moment would come. Probably with dessert, I decided. That seemed to be the traditional way of doing it. Would he just get out the ring and kneel, or had he set up some fancy presentation where the ring would be in a piece of cake or a glass of champagne? I could barely focus on the meal from thinking about what was to come.
But then as the meal wore on, my enthusiasm gradually waned, even though we were surrounded by soft music and candlelight. I found myself looking across the table at him and getting that old feeling that I was looking at a stranger. I’d forgotten about that in all the excitement. Had I been excited about him proposing, or was it just excitement from being proposed to? Was this what Florence had meant about trusting my gut, focusing on my feelings instead of on the situation? It was so confusing, like I was feeling two completely opposite things at the same time. How could I be madly in love with Josh and wanting to marry him while still thinking of him as a stranger I didn’t particularly like?
I remembered other things as the evening continued. Just before that moment when he’d rescued me on the stairs, there had been something I was upset about, and it had to do with Josh, not Owen. I hadn’t been fleeing up the stairs from Owen, I’d been fleeing down the stairs from Josh after hearing him talk to Florence. She’d said something about Mr. Wrong and Mr. Right, and she’d been talking like these were roles we were all playing.
Then I realized what all this reminded me of: that movie Florence had selected for us to watch. There was the safe guy and the right guy, but the safe guy wasn’t even truly safe. He was someone to settle on, but there were warning signs and red flags about what life would be like with him. A marriage with him might not be bad, but the heroine could never really be herself while she was with him. There would always be a part of herself she’d have to deny, and that would be tragic. Choosing the right guy might feel risky, but the payoff would be huge.
The waiter brought out a small cake with sparklers on it, and the sparklers triggered another memory, of sparks dancing in the air as Owen and I ran through the bookstore. The memory was just as vivid as these sparklers in front of me. It hadn’t been a dream. It had been real. I’d wanted to kiss Owen after that, more than I’d ever wanted to kiss Josh—or anyone else. He wasn’t Mr. Wrong, the skeevy boss who could help my career at the cost of my soul. He was Mr. Right. I could have magic, so why settle for less?
Just as I realized that, Josh got out of his seat, knelt in front of me, and opened a ring box.
At first, I was frozen. I wanted to say or do something before this went any further, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying over the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood in my ears. When his lips stopped moving, I heard myself say, “I can’t,” and then my feet made the decision my brain couldn’t. I got up and ran from the restaurant.
The store was still open, so I hoped Owen would be there. I supposed it wasn’t utterly essential that I talk to him now. He’d be there tomorrow, and I could talk to him then. But something drove me to get there right away. I knew who was right for me and I didn’t want to waste a moment. After the way I’d left him, I didn’t want to give him a chance to dwell on the way I’d acted toward him. If I gave him too much time to think about it, he might come to hate me, and I couldn’t bear that.
I tried flagging down several cabs, but they all passed right by me. A motorcycle