by M. J. Pullen
Charlotte smiled. “Can I just say that you are also pretty terrifying when you’re pissed?”
He laughed. “Fair enough. Points for bravery as well as honesty. You win.”
And then they were kissing again, lost in each other. He tasted faintly of salt and whisky—liquid courage—and Charlotte couldn’t get enough. At some point, Jared sank to the picnic blanket on the stage floor, pulling her with him, and somehow they were still kissing, and she wondered why she hadn’t been kissing Jared every single day of her life since she’d met him. What else could have possibly been more important? Working, eating, shopping, breathing?
She noticed, distantly, that the piano music faded to a halt. She heard the creak of the door as Joe left. A momentary intrusion of the electric guitar and crowd outside, and then they were alone. No longer a deserted stage in a nightclub, what they had was a colorful paradise, their personal glowing nest within a dark, cavernous room.
Charlotte thought of their conversation here the other night, over curly fries, with bar patrons drifting in and out. It felt as though years had passed since it had gone so wrong. She let herself lay back on the blanket, which smelled vaguely floral, maybe like whatever store he’d bought it from this afternoon. She pulled Jared closer, encasing him firmly with her arms to protect this moment. As he shifted with her, Jared’s hand grazed lightly against her outer thigh, just skimming the hem of the knit skirt she’d thrown on earlier to do laundry.
His touch had the simultaneous effects of making her crazy, and reminding her that Lily and Owen were still in the bar outside.
“Are they…is anyone, um, waiting for us?” she said carefully, feeling a thrill run up her spine as his hand moved another inch upward.
She was a little embarrassed to ask. Even though it had been pretty clear earlier what Jared’s purpose was tonight, she now wasn’t entirely sure. Owen could’ve been wrong. Maybe this wasn’t a proposal, as they’d assumed, but just Jared’s idea of an awesome first date. Really, really, awesome.
Even if it was more than that, wasn’t there was something indelicate about pressing the issue? Ruining the romance by rushing him?
Jared grinned, sensing her discomfort. “You want to know, after I ask you to marry me, is anyone going to come barging in here with flowers and balloons and want to take pictures?”
She coughed. Marry me. He’d said it. It didn’t matter how many times she’d heard those words as a professional. Hearing them—even sideways—from the man she loved was more exhilarating than she’d ever imagined.
“Let’s put it this way,” he said into the hollow of her throat. “I’m paying that big dude outside a hundred bucks an hour to keep everyone but you out of here until we open the doors. So I think we’re good.”
“You’re going to ask me to marry you.” She said it quietly, awed, more a statement than a question.
Jared looked at her then, and the roguish smile faded from his lips. “I should have asked you years ago. That was my mistake, graduation night. I told you how I felt about you, and asked you to leave everything comfortable behind for me, and I thought that was enough. I thought because you were my best friend… Like I was Ethan Hawke in Reality Bites. Anyway. I thought it was stupid romantic.”
“It was,” Charlotte assured him. “No one has ever said anything so wonderful to me in my life.”
He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have taken no for an answer. I should have stayed to prove myself to you. I drove away with my wounded pride, hit the trail, and never looked back. I will always regret that.”
She laughed. “That worked out pretty well for you, I’d say.”
He shifted off so that he was next to her, propped on one elbow. The hand that had been toying flirtatiously with her skirt came to rest on her hip and pulled her to face him.
“I need you to understand that I would give up all of this—the money, the success, whatever—if it meant I could be with you.”
Charlotte sighed. “Oh, God, Jared. You don’t get it. I’m the one who should be trying to convince you. I’m the one who regrets that night. A big part of me desperately wanted to get in that car with you. I’ve replayed that moment in my head so many times, always wondering what would have happened if I’d been brave enough. It was more than disappointing Boyd, and my family. That stuff was true. But I was also afraid of stepping into the unknown.” She paused and toyed nervously with a button on his shirt, avoiding his eye. “Afraid of my feelings for you.”
She’d never admitted it before, not even to herself. Jared had scared the crap out of her that night. Although she had enjoyed how it felt to be Boyd’s girlfriend and fantasize about marriage, part of her had always known Boyd’s feelings for her were basically shallow. Safe. Family-approved. Picturesque. What she felt around Jared was terrifying because it was real, and messy, and scary as hell.
He put a hand under her chin, making her look at him. “Are you still afraid?” he asked. “Because I bought a pretty damn expensive piece of jewelry today, thinking how perfect it would look on your finger, how the sapphire would look with your eyes, and—frankly,” his voice dropped, husky and alluring, “how amazing you would look wearing nothing but my ring on your finger.”
She breathed in sharply. His face was so close, and the air sizzled electric between them. He was holding something back. Charlotte sensed it. There was something he didn’t want to say.
Are you still afraid?
I would give up all of this…
I asked you to leave everything behind.
When it clicked into place, it was Lily’s voice she heard. Have you ever actually told him how you feel?
Charlotte took a deep breath and let her hand rest on Jared’s heart. She felt it pounding hard, like hers. “I am in love with you, Jared. I didn’t fully understand it seven years ago, but it’s been clear these last two days. I love you. I don’t care about your money, I don’t need a big house, and if you want me to sign some kind of prenup—”
“That’s not…”
She put a finger over his lips. “We can stay here, or I will move to Austin. And I will sign anything you want me to sign, to prove that whatever this is between us is exactly what it’s supposed to be.” Then she smirked as her practical side kicked in. “As long as it doesn’t bother you that I’m going back to school. I’m getting out of the proposal business. And you promise to always take care of our children.”
“Our children,” Jared repeated, voice cracking.
“I want to have your babies, Jared.” She smacked his chest and laughed. “I just realized it, just this minute. Isn’t that stupid? The whole time Boyd and I were together, all I could think about was how he would propose, what our wedding would be like. Like that would mean I was really grown up—a wedding. Since he never proposed, I guess I got stuck in that place, you know? Planning the moment I never got, for other people. Over and over.” She made a face. “It’s sort of twisted, actually, now that I think about it.”
He smiled and covered her hand with his. “You’re talking to the guy who gave up indoor toilets for the better part of two years after you rejected him. If there’s some hidden symbolism to that, I sure as hell don’t want to know what it is.”
She kissed his chin. “I love you, Jared. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I love you… I love you…”
Her words were interspersed with soft, intimate kisses that lingered between them like ozone that hovered in the air before a lightning storm. In one smooth motion, he pulled her tight against him and rolled on top of her, kissing her deeply and murmuring “I love you,” over and over, his deep voice vibrating against her mouth and skin.
Soon Charlotte found herself looking up at the bright swirls of the umbrellas above her as he unbuttoned her shirt and freed her breasts from the crappy beige bra she only wore around the house anymore. So much for the manicure, perfect lingerie and photo-worthy dress, she th
ought with distant amusement. He covered one nipple with his mouth, sucking and gently tugging at it until Charlotte thought she would go insane. She pulled his head up to meet her frantic, searching mouth again, unbuttoning his shirt as fast as her trembling fingers would let her.
“Should we wait?” he whispered, eyes flicking to the picnic basket.
There was a ring in there, she knew, something gorgeous and tasteful that he had picked out just for her. There was Lily outside and even Owen, and their parents to call and so many questions left to resolve.
But when she looked in his eyes, she saw the man who had loved her in silence for so long, who had stood by their friendship even when it meant having to watch from the sidelines. The man who had served his heart up to her on a platter seven years ago, like a little boy with a shiny rock; who loved her too much to face her after she rejected his gift. The man who could still make her laugh, still give her butterflies, still call her on her bullshit better than anyone, even seven years later.
She grabbed the sides of his shirt in her hands and pulled him down to her. “I think we’ve waited long enough, don’t you?”
When she looked back later, she would remember how it was the unromantic details that made this moment between them even more perfect. One of the beautiful umbrellas still had a price tag dangling from its supports—apparently Joe and Jared had missed that one in their rush to get things ready. Charlotte’s disheveled hair, laundry day skirt and cheap pink flip-flops were not what she’d imagined wearing when she made love to her future husband for the first time. The blisters between her toes from chasing him around the city all evening in inappropriate footwear.
And there was the hilarious fact that Jared kept a condom in a small first-aid kit, nestled beneath the wine glasses in the picnic basket.
“I can’t believe you brought a first-aid kit to an indoor picnic,” she said from behind her hands, unable to hide her laughter despite being mostly undressed on a picnic blanket on a wooden stage.
“Old backpacker’s habit,” he said indignantly as he returned to her. “Lucky for you, too.”
“Oh, lucky for me, eh?” she teased, as she wriggled out of the skirt. It was odd that she felt no self-consciousness around Jared at all. “You didn’t think tonight would go this way?”
He sat at her feet, letting one hand drift appreciatively up her calf. “I hoped,” he said, with a touch of awe in his voice.
“I didn’t shave,” she observed, watching his hand. She wondered if the real Charlotte would measure up to the girl he’d imagined she was in college.
“Couldn’t care less,” he said flatly, and he let the hand travel around her knee to slide up her inner thigh. “God, you are even more beautiful than I imagined.”
She gasped lightly as he reached her panties and dusted lightly across them, barely touching, until his hand found the other thigh.
“I did hope,” he resumed, watching the path of his fingers as it raised tiny goose bumps on her flesh and made her squirm with anticipation. “Which is why there’s a suite at the Ritz going to waste right now.”
“Seriously?” Charlotte said in spite of herself.
He arched a light eyebrow. “That’s where my big first-aid kit is.”
She laughed, throwing her head back, and it was as though it flipped a switch inside him. He moved with sudden seriousness to cover her body again with his own. He kissed her mouth and throat hungrily, cradling her head with one hand and working her panties off with the other. They made love for the first time—both knowing it was their last first time—on a blanket, on a stage, beneath the Umbrellas of Cherbourg, in the heart of San Francisco. The place where neither of them had anything left to hide.
She woke some time later, wrapped in Jared’s arms with him curled close behind her. The low thump of the music next door had died down. How long had they slept? Was the club closed? Had Lily and Owen gone home? Was that poor bouncer still standing at attention outside the door?
Charlotte tapped his arm, loving the way the familiar light-red hairs and freckles on his arms stood out against her naked skin. She’d known him intimately, even back when she hadn’t noticed him properly.
“I think we should go, don’t you?” she whispered. “Do we need to take down these umbrellas?”
Jared didn’t answer, but tightened his arm to prevent her moving.
“Jared, wake up. We can’t stay here.”
He grunted. “Not yet.”
Charlotte smiled and pinched his arm softly. “I know you prefer sleeping on hard ground, but I don’t think Tina would appreciate us keeping her here all night. Let’s go to the hotel.”
“In a minute,” he said groggily, pulling her naked body against his, strong and solid.
“All we have to do is get dressed and into a cab,” she coaxed, kissing his arm. “And I promise to make it worth your while.”
“Mmmm…” he said, not moving. “Tempting.”
She was about to try again to wake him, when he shifted, and she felt something move against her chest. It was solid, but light, with the fuzzy feel of…velvet. The ring box. He’d retrieved it while she was sleeping.
“Jared,” she whispered. She couldn’t think what else to say.
Without letting her go, he shifted onto one elbow so his voice was next to her ear. “Believe me, I have every intention of getting out of here and figuring out what you meant by ‘making it worth my while.’”
She laughed and tried to turn toward him but he held her still.
“But I came here tonight to ask you a question, and we’re not leaving until I get an answer.”
How many times had she heard the words? Thousands. Literally. They’d become almost routine. She’d thought so often about exactly how she’d want to hear them herself, and never came up with a hypothetical moment that could outshine all the others. Now that the moment was here, she realized none of it mattered. They’d both known what he wanted to ask, and she’d already given her answer in every way that counted.
She pulled the box gently from his grip and rolled to face him. To face their future.
The ring could be spectacular later. There would be clothes and the Ritz and phone calls and celebrations.
For now, it was just the two of them, naked and alone on a bare stage, surrounded by light and possibilities.
And that was enough.
Charlotte kissed her best friend lightly on the lips.
“Yes.”
The End
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About the Author
MANDA (M.J.) PULLEN, former therapist and marketer, is the author of funny, romantic women’s fiction. She was raised in the suburbs of Atlanta by a physicist and a flower child, who taught her that life is tragic and funny, and real love is anything but simple. She studied English Literature and Business at the University of Georgia, and Professional Counseling at Georgia State University.
Manda has a weakness for sappy movies, juicy gossip, craft beer and boys who talk baseball. After traveling around Europe and living in cities like Austin and Portland, she returned to Atlanta where she lives with her family.
Other Books by M.J. Pullen
The Marriage Pact Series—Romantic Women’s Fiction
The Marriage Pact
Regrets Only
Baggage Check
Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Every Other Saturday
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M.J. Pullen, City of Yes (A Novella)