The crunching of tires on snow alerts me to Chuck’s return. I hurry to the window in time to see the Roses’ Grand Cherokee park next to my dad’s Cadillac SUV. Chuck’s mom gets out and, from the way Abigail is smiling and obviously in a good mood, it’s clear Chuck has gone back on his word and hasn’t told his parents a damn thing.
The Nissan pulls up behind Bud’s Jeep soon afterward, and Chuck steps out. I race down the stairs, taking the steps two at a time, to intercept him, and throw the front door wide open before Abigail can ring the bell—not that she ever does, since they usually just walk in.
“Oh, hi, Darling,” she says, surprised.
“Hi, I need to talk to Chuck.”
“Bud, would you look at this,” she says, addressing her husband. “One hour apart, and the kids can barely survive! It’s so sweet.” Then, turning back to me. “Chuck is all yours, Darling.”
Abigail steps aside to let her son in.
I grab Chuck’s hand and pull him across the threshold none-too-gently.
“Ow,” Chuck protests.
“We’ll be back in a second,” I inform his parents with a sugary sweet smile.
“You’d better be,” Bud says with a smile. “Josiane Masson will arrive soon, and we don’t want to keep her waiting.”
I drag a morose-looking Chuck up the stairs to my room and, once we’re behind closed doors, I wheel on him.
“You didn’t tell them!” I accuse. “How could you not? You promised.”
“Yeah, I know, but something big came up and—Wait, did you tell your parents?”
Nope. I chickened out. Not that he needs to know that. “No, but—”
“Then what gives you the right to yell at me?”
“I didn’t speak with my parents only because I knew you’d go back on your word.”
“I could say the same.”
“When have I ever gone back on my word?”
“When have I?”
“Just now.”
“You, too.”
This argument is childish, pointless, and isn’t leading us anywhere. Also, I’m more than a little disappointed in myself for crumbling under the pressure. When I got home, Mom was singing and dancing around the kitchen as she fixed breakfast, and I couldn’t bring myself to dampen the mood. And when Dad came down to eat he just wouldn’t shut up about all the plans he has for the Chucokate. It never seemed the right moment to shatter all their dreams and hopes.
“Wait,” I say, frowning. “Something ‘big’ came up? I’m having a hard time believing it could be bigger than this Chucokate disaster.”
With a glum expression, Chuck buries one hand in his jeans pocket, takes out a tiny red velvet box, and slams it into my hands. “This big enough for you? Nana Fern gave me this when I got home, alongside a grand speech about how the only thing that can possibly make her happy before she kicks the bucket is to see us get married.”
I stare at the box. “Is this what I think it is?”
Chuck scoffs. “See for yourself.”
I flip the lid and stare at the most beautiful antique ring I’ve ever seen. The elaborate gold band is exquisite, and the ruby set in the middle sparkles like a Christmas tree bulb.
A breath catches in my throat, and my heart cracks a little because, if Chuck and I were still together, and he had one day proposed to me, Nana’s ring would’ve been the perfect engagement ring.
“This farce is getting out of hand,” Chuck says, glaring down at the ring. “Nana Fern gives me a ring and flat out tells me to propose, and now my mom thinks I’m going to ask you to marry me any minute, and hasn’t stopped smiling ever since—”
“Why? Why would your mom think you wanted to propose?”
“She saw me with the box and started building castles in the air no matter how many times I told her I don’t want to propose.”
Okay, for real this time. No more waiting. For either of us.
“Chuck, we can’t keep going like this.”
He sighs. “I know.”
“Let’s go downstairs and tell them, right now. Together, so we can’t chicken out on our own. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Yeah, I agree.”
As I start to close the box, the ruby on the ring glints invitingly. I’m struck by an irresistible urge to try the ring on, considering I’ll probably never get the chance again. I try to remove it from its stand, but the band is wedged in tightly. I end up pulling too hard, and the ring flies out of my hands and tumbles under the bed.
“Hey, be careful.” Chuck takes the box back from me and squats on the floor. “I get you don’t want the ring, but no need to throw it away.”
“Ha ha. Just find it. Need a light?”
“I think I’m good…”
He slithers under the bed with his bum sticking out in the air, then comes out again with the ring in one hand and the box in the other.
Chuck sits on his heels for a second and blows dust off the ring. Just when he’s about to stand up, lifting on one knee, the door flies open. We both freeze. My mom is standing in the doorway and has already started talking. “Josiane has arrived, kids, she’s waiting for you down—”
She stops mid-sentence as she takes in the scene. I follow her gaze to Chuck, who’s currently on one knee with a ring in his hands, facing me. The shock on my mom’s face quickly transforms into unadulterated joy as she jumps to all the wrong conclusions.
“It’s happening!” she screeches. “Abigail, Mick, Bud… Chuck is proposing!”
“Mom, he’s not—it’s not…”
I don’t know why I bother. She’s so excited she’s not taking in a word I’m saying.
In a surprisingly short amount of time for a group of middle-aged people who have to run up a steep staircase, the other parents arrive and crowd the threshold behind my mom. Abigail is already crying.
They stare at us, and we stare back. Chuck is still kneeling on the ground. I think he was too shocked to think of standing up. Understandable, considering I was too shocked to pull him to his feet myself.
“Come on, Honeybun,” my mom urges. “Don’t mind us. Give the poor boy an answer!”
“He hasn’t asked any question,” I point out, in a voice raspy with terror.
Chuck’s gaze shifts from me to the parents, and then back. “Uh…”
“Ooh, then we haven’t missed the big event!” his mom cheers.
“Come on, Chucky,” Bud encourages him. “You can do it, my boy.”
Chuck clears his throat. “Kate… err…”
Oh my gosh. What is he doing? He can’t seriously ask me to marry him.
Chuck Rose, don’t you dare!
Oblivious to my mental threats Chuck stutters, “Will you… uh… mmm…”
I glare at him and shake my head ever so slightly, my gaze promising a swift and painful death if one more word comes out of his mouth.
“Will you… marry me?”
He actually did it. He said the words.
I stare at him, flabbergasted, as our parents all burst into tears—even the dads. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen them this happy, while all I want to do is to disapparate from the room.
With all eyes on me, I give the only possible answer. “Y-Yes?”
So much for ending the farce. Now we’re off the deep end and into monster-infested waters. And my sole companion in this ocean of despair is a terrified-looking nerd who clearly has no more idea of what to do in this crazy situation than I do.
Chuck, looking as horrified as I feel, stands up and takes my hand. Both our hands are shaking with jitters and emotions opposite to those one should feel on such an occasion. Dread instead of excitement. Anger instead of love. Misery instead of joy.
All eyes are still on us as Chuck awkwardly slides the ring onto my finger. A storm rages in his beautiful blue eyes—confusion, desperation, dismay… and also some deeper, buried emotion I can’t read.
As I stare down at my ring finger, my hand has never felt heavier. A weird sense of foreboding wraps tightly around my chest.
The parents couldn’t be in a more different emotional state. They erupt in cheers and applauses. Sounds that mix with the clear noise of a phone camera snapping photos. Looking past my dad, I notice for the first time a short brunette with a tight bun and winter-chic clothes—cream wool poncho, whitewashed jeans, and beige suede boots—staring back at me.
The woman snaps one last shot and then turns to Chuck’s mom. “Oh, they’re just perfect,” Josiane Masson enthuses. “The engagement is going to do wonders for the Chucokate campaign.”
So much for ‘if there’s a will, there’s a way’. Will has nothing to do with it. It’s clear to me now that the only law determining my fate is Murphy’s Law: Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.