Propose To Me

by Caroline Andrus

  “Wow, you have it bad, don’t you, Anna Claire?”

  Shifting my confused look to her, I ask, “What do you mean?”

  “This man has you so rattled, I could kiss him. He’s woken you up, my friend. And I have a feeling you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

  I look at Julia and smile. I always did enjoy rollercoasters.

  Chapter Eight

  ~ Inferno ~

  I work through my indecision most of the day as the hours drone on and on. I rework the designs for the next building my company has contracted to reinvent. It’s mind numbing work, but I love the creativity of it and the freedom I get when my mind is working angles and spatial anomalies on how I can best fit a certain number of rooms into one building. Today is no different, save my eyes roaming from my computer to the huge arrangement of pink roses now on the corner of my mahogany desk. As much as my guilt plagues me, my heart keeps coming back to Ethan. Should I meet him again? Do I care if my father finds out? If we do work out, where would we live considering we would have no peace in a city practically owned by my father? I think about how I will break it to Steve and if he’ll cry. Then I laugh and realize how stupid that is; Steve never cries.

  The day drones on and on like that with my mind oscillating from one extreme to another. Emotionally exhausted, I have little strength left to fight it off. By lunch, I’m exhausted and have designed the same room five times in the last hour. The lack of focus is driving me mad so I take a break and check my email. I have one from Ethan, time stamped five minutes after I arrived at work this morning. I open it up and the only content is a cell phone number. Presumptuous for sure, but I’m still intrigued so I take out my phone and send him a text.

  Thank you for the flowers. I put down my phone, expecting to have to wait for a few minutes until he responds but it barely touches the desk before it chimes.

  Did you know why I chose pink?

  I smile to myself. It seems that I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. It was the color of the sunset the first time we kissed.

  Again, the text response is almost instantaneous. I was afraid you had forgotten.

  It’s funny the things you remember, long after you have forgotten them. Time and memory are such fickle beasts. As humans, we are cursed to remember the things we want to forget and forget almost everything we truly want to remember. The paradox isn’t lost on me. I want to write something whimsical back, but I honestly don’t know what to say. Despite the fact that I’m happier in the past few days than I have been in years, it doesn’t change the fact that I’m engaged. The only difference now is that I know in my heart it’s to the wrong man. Realization hits me like a Mack truck. Genuine, lasting love indeed does exist. One that can stand the test of time. Even though I haven’t seen or spoken to Ethan for ten years, the spark never died. Whatever connection we once had is just as strong today as it was a decade ago. The stories really didn’t lie–true love never really dies. It may change over time, but it never, ever diminishes.

  Ethan has come back to me after years of fate conspiring to keep us apart. More than that, he’s willing to fight for me this time, a miracle within itself. Another chime from my phone brings my attention back to the here and now.

  Do you like them? I can hear his vulnerability even through the text.

  How could I not? They are perfect. And so was the card. I never thought of you as a poet.

  He sends a smiley text before responding. Robert Thoreau ain’t got nothin’ on me babe.

  I literally laugh out loud, as I imagine Ethan saying that. I wonder when I became this witless teenager again and shake myself mentally. I really need to get back to work. Just as that thought crosses my mind, another text chimed in from Ethan.

  Can you ditch work for the rest of the day? There’s something I need to show you.

  I hesitate, wondering if it’s a good idea to go down this road. Then I realize my heart is already at the end of the road, waiting for me to catch up. Apparently, my mind is very slow and more stubborn than my heart.

  Yes. I type and take a deep breath before sending. There’s no going back now. I realize, rather ecstatically, that I don’t want to go back. I want to move on with the life stolen from me all those years ago.

  The second I respond yes, another text pops up on my phone. The only content is an address. My face practically glows as I grab my coat and purse and head out the door. I’m going back to where this all began.

  Chapter Nine

  ~ Eternal Flame ~

  I open the door and walk into the half burned remains of the downtown building I almost died in a few short weeks ago. The burnt odor stings my nostrils, but it isn’t so overwhelming that I can’t breathe. The front walls are as black with soot and debris litters the floor except for one circular area in the middle of the front great hall. Inside the circle is a vase full of pink flowers surrounded by pink petals. As I walk closer, I notice the petals aren’t simply thrown down randomly, but rather they spell out a message: follow the trail. I look up and see that the petals do indeed form a trail toward the back of the building.

  I step around the vase to follow the petals on the floor. My heels echo with each step due to the high ceilings of this old building. Despite the light of the day, the interior is dark. I take out my phone and push the light button to guide my way. I walk down the main hall that leads away from the front lobby, excitement from the adventure making my heart skip beats. I round two corners of the maze-like corridors before the petals stop at a white door. I look up and see a scribbled message: For Anna Claire—the only woman who will forever hold my heart. My hands shake as I reach for the doorknob. I take a deep breath as I grasp it; my mind whirls in wonder to see what waits behind door number one.

  The moment I open the door, the hall is flooded with light. There are candles everywhere, casting a soft yellow glow on all the light touches. In the middle of the large banquet room sits a round table covered with a soft white tablecloth and two chairs. Candles of all different sizes surround another large arrangement of pink roses smack dab in the middle. As I approach the table, I smell succulent aromas of some sort of chicken dish, sitting on top of the cart just off to the right.

  “Hello?” I ask, expecting to hear Ethan’s voice but all I get back is my own reverberating off the walls. “Hello, Ethan?” I ask again, feeling confused. “I know you’re here so why don’t you just show yourself?”

  Suddenly, a small fire erupts on the floor from the other side of the table. I gasp and grab my chest, the fear threatening to take over as I take a few large steps back. I soon realize that the small fire is set in a specific pattern. I watch the small spark gather speed as it spreads on the floor, mesmerized by the movements of the yellow flame. It’s quite beautiful actually—as long as it isn’t chasing you. The flame, which at first had moved up in an arc, now is moving back down in sloping pattern. It reaches a point by my feet and begins to move back up toward the place where it began. I step back two more feet and instantly recognize the shape the flame is making.

  My heart flutters rapidly in my chest and I almost literally swoon. I thought that only happened in romance novels, but as light-headed as I feel right now, it must be real. The flame reaches its starting point, completing the heart. I look up and see Ethan come out of the darkness and walk to the middle of the flaming heart and face me. He’s dressed in khaki’s and a blue polo shirt that matches his eyes. In his hand is a single pink rose. I’m not sure when I begin to cry and I’m certain that I don’t care.

  “This is supposed to make you happy, not sad, Anna Claire.”

  I look up into Ethan’s confused eyes and smile. I’m as far from sad that I could ever be. “They’re happy tears, Ethan. In fact, I think I’m feeling just about every elated emotion conceivable right now. That’s probably why I’m crying.”

  Ethan smiles; it lights up the room even more than the soft fire still flaming around us. “Then I guess this will make you cry even more,” he predicts as he
takes a small, square black velvet box out of his pocket. He gets down on one knee and opens the box. Staring back at me is a two-carat, sparkling diamond in the shape of a heart. Ethan was correct; the tears begin to free flow and I don’t know how to stop them.

  “Oh, Ethan,” I say after a sniff, “it’s absolutely beautiful.” Damn, I’m sure I look like Rudolf right now.

  “I know it’s not as big as you’re accustomed to, but it seemed perfect for you so...”

  “Stop that right now,” I chide as I close the short distance between us and put my finger over his lips. “It’s perfect.”

  Ethan’s smile brightens even more as he asks the question I’ve unknowingly waited over a decade to be asked.

  “Anna Claire Hopkins. Will you do me the extraordinary honor of becoming my wife?”

  The tears stop instantly as I think of spending the rest of my life in the strong arms of this amazing man, my personal savior. I realize then that I never had a chance. The answer was always the same. “Yes, my love. Absolutely yes,” I whisper happily.

  Ethan stands quickly and moves forward, he takes me into his arms and kisses me hungrily. It’s a kiss to seal a love that began many years ago and waited patiently until we were both ready to take on my father, leave my current fiancé and fight for a love that was always meant to be. And finally, after a decade of a life void of happiness and romance, I finally feel like I’m home.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Ellyse Roberts’ first book was a romance novel set in the London ton. It only took that one book for a romance junkie to be born. Hundreds of novels later, Ellyse decided to take her love for creative writing and create a sweet story where romance isn’t dead and true love lasts a lifetime. The Spark is her debut short story.

  PROPOSAL UNEXPECTED

  by Elena Kane

  Chapter One

  Adele sniffed loudly, wiping her reddened nose with yet another tissue for the millionth time. Grabbing the remote, she proceeded to flip through the channels. The same old Christmas shows, which made their grand appearance every year, would not take her mind off the unfairness of being sick during the holidays. As she thought of her husband’s company Christmas party starting in a few minutes, she threw the remote down with disgust.

  “Of all the stupid times to get a cold,” she muttered miserably to Callie. Her calico cat blinked once before turning her head, no more sympathetic than her husband had been. “Humph.” Adele blew her nose again; the tender flesh burned painfully with each touch of the lotion-infused material.

  Adele leaned her head back onto the soft cushions of the couch, her mouth open wide in a weak attempt to breathe normally. Her whole body ached; her head felt stuffed with cotton, and she couldn’t get warm enough. Despite all of that, her true discomfort lay in the fact she hadn’t been able to go out in her new cocktail dress, on the arm of her handsome husband. Every year, she looked forward to Rob’s company parties—or more importantly—how Rob reacted to her when she came down the stairs all dolled up. Not that he normally thought she looked bad, but he was so rarely home. She appreciated the extra attention. He would tell her how he couldn’t wait for all his coworkers to see his hottie wife.

  His company always rented out an impressive hotel for the whole night: drinks, entertainment and rooms for the employees included. This year promised to be one of the best parties yet with impressive performances, grand giveaway prizes and rooms twice the size of all the previous years. Adele had been looking forward to the event since hearing the details back in late summer.

  “And two days before the big night, a preschooler has to sneeze on me,” Adele muttered. She loved her students and enjoyed the new experiences they provided her every day. Dealing with being sneezed and coughed on was definitely not her favorite part. After the first few years of teaching, she’d acquired immunities and it didn’t faze her. However, this had been a special virus, destined to make her feel as if she were dying and rendered incapable of attending a party.

  “Stupid cold or flu or whatever the hell it is,” Adele muttered bitterly. She was seriously beginning to wonder if it wasn’t the Bubonic Plague making a comeback. Groaning loudly, she swung her legs off the couch and mentally prepared herself for the vertigo that would attack the minute she got up from her deathbed. She had been talking herself out of getting some orange juice for the past hour, but her taste buds won out. The promise of a wet, soothed throat spurred her on.

  “He could have at least stayed home and taken care of me,” Adele grumbled as she heaved herself off the couch. She shuffled her feet down the carpeted hallway, stopping at the kitchen counter to rest for a moment, before finishing the rest of her journey to the fridge. “Why does it have to be so far away,” she whined to Callie, who had followed her slow progress in the hopes of being fed too. “If you think I’m getting you anything when I just used the last of my reserves to get a glass of juice, you’re wrong. You should have helped me convince Rob to stay if you wanted to be fed sometime in the next hour.”

  Callie gave her another slow blink, turning her head once more in feline disgust. She gave a low meow of indignation before making her way back to the couch Adele had vacated.

  “Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” she called to the independent cat. “I plan on sitting there again.” She took a swig of the juice, accidently slamming the glass a little too hard on the counter. Her hands shook badly with such little effort. “If I don’t pass out first,” she muttered, knowing the cat wasn’t listening one way or the other.

  She started back toward the couch, pausing every few steps to attempt to breathe and rest before continuing. The room waved uncomfortably before her eyes, making her already nauseous stomach burn with sickness. “See, this is why he should have stayed. I could very well be dying.”

  She’d tried all afternoon to convince Rob to stay with her, pleading that she felt like death warmed over; he wouldn’t be swayed.

  “The room has already been paid for and it would be a waste if I didn’t go,” he argued.

  Adele shook her head at the memory, feeling just as insulted now as she did when he’d first made the comment. “What kind of bullshit answer is that,” she muttered, slumping to the floor in complete exhaustion. She laid her head down on the soft carpet, fighting the waves of heat crashing around in her stomach.

  The phone ringing startled her awake. Fighting pain and nausea, she crawled the remaining distance to where she’d placed it on the arm of the couch, hoping it was Rob. She would tell him he’d better officially say goodbye because she wasn’t long for this world.

  She looked at the number on the screen, her mind drawing a blank and slid the button across to answer the call. “Hello,” she said, painfully aware of how awful she sounded.

  “Adele,” an unfamiliar voice stammered back.

  “This is she.” Adele leaned her head against the couch and fought to stay awake for just a few more minutes, though her eyes screamed for relief.

  “You don’t know me, but I have some important information about your husband.”

  Adele’s heart skipped a beat then fell to the pit of her stomach where it joined the burning sensation. “Is he okay?” she asked, voicing the dreaded question.

  “Oh, I would say he is more than okay,” the voice dripped sarcasm and anger. “He’s currently screwing his secretary in that fancy hotel room the company rented for him.”

  Adele forgot how to breathe. A blackness, which had nothing to do with her sickness, crashed all around her. Time stood still and words failed her. “Who is this?” she whispered, every other thought scattering in her mind.

  “My name isn’t important,” the voice answered angrily.

  “How do you know this?” Adele asked, her own anger showing its ugly head.

  “Because he’s cheating on me now and I’m the one pregnant with his child.”

  ~ * ~

  Adele looked around, temporarily confused by her surroundings. She lay
on the floor once more, her face turned toward the couch and her phone still in her hand. Cheating bastard ... another woman ... two other women ... a baby on the way. His betrayal bombarded her mind and she retched, unable to hold back the sickness that had threatened her all evening.

  The tears flowed hot and fast down her face, causing her nose to run even harder, and she gagged again. She crawled toward the bathroom, leaving a trail of snot and tears in her wake.

  “How could he do this to me?” she screamed, the shrillness of her voice making her head throb painfully. Her whole life and everything she loved about it, about him, flashed through her mind. It was all a lie. She meant nothing to him. No wonder he wouldn’t stay. It was the perfect excuse for him to have the whole night to himself with his mistress of choice.

  Adele screamed out again as thoughts of his secretary, Becka, entered her mind. She had trusted, even liked her, and this is how she repaid her? It was all too much. Adele laid her feverish head on the cold tile of the bathroom floor. She sobbed until the tears dried up, and she fell asleep once more.

  ~ * ~

  “Adele. Honey, can you hear me?”

  Adele shifted slightly, registering the low voice that made her heart race; it just raced for a completely different reason now. Weakly, she opened her lids just a fraction. The light from the hallway caused her eyes to water painfully.