“Do you have a better idea on how to solve your problem? Your shop is shut down, possibly forever if you don’t find a way to get the plumbing fixed and all your equipment replaced. Are you gonna go work at the gas station selling vapes and chili dogs?”
“No. I could go work for one of the Overton florists.”
“Yeah, working the cash register and doing deliveries. Because that uses your talent,” she said sarcastically.
“That’s harsh,” I said grimly.
“It’s true,” she shot back. “You have a way out of this problem. And the answer happens to be the hottest fireman Rockford Falls has ever seen. What is the downside here? I realize I’m sleep-deprived but I must be missing something. Is there a downside to this?”
“No. I was up all night thinking about it, and the only problem is feeling like I’m taking advantage of Damon.”
“He offered.”
“Technically I proposed and he accepted.”
“Same difference. He was sober and understood the implications of saying yes.”
“He said okay.”
“What are you, the detail police today?” she grumbled.
“Somebody had to make waffles at four, I’m guessing by your mood,” I said.
“Shut. Up.”
“Have you tried not giving him waffles?” I asked. “I mean, I know he’s the cutest kid ever and all but…”
“Oh, hey if only I’d thought of that,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Of course I’ve tried not giving him waffles. Why would I voluntarily give him breakfast when it’s still goddamn dark outside? He cries like his heart is broken. He won’t go back to sleep. It’s wake up, make him waffles and watch him play happily or wake up, refuse him waffles and fight the endless tantrum. And by endless I mean he kept going till after nine in the morning. I thought I’d died and gone to hell and it was loud there.”
“Okay, okay. Waffles for everyone, okay?” I said.
“I’m so tired. I wish that my big struggle was deciding whether to marry the hot guy who wants to solve all my problems. Don’t make this hard when there’s an easy solution,” she said wearily.
“I love you. Go take a nap, okay?” I said.
She yawned goodbye and hung up. She might be sleep-deprived, but she was right. There was no downside. I texted her, I’m doing it. You were right. Never tell anyone I said I was wrong though.
I knew that message would make her laugh. I also knew it was the truth. If I agreed to marry Damon, I could use his house as collateral to fix my shop and buy the building. I would pay him back, with interest, beginning the first month I had my shop open again. I didn’t care if I had to live on ramen noodles and wear worn-out shoes and cut my own hair. I’d repay him. That would be priority number one. Because I could never really thank him adequately, I could at least honor the agreement scrupulously and provide him free flowers for life.
Good decision. Now just try not to fall in love for real, my sister texted back. I chewed on my bottom lip.
Love is the last thing on my mind, I replied, not sure if it was the truth.
I felt awkward about how to approach Damon. How did you contact a guy you proposed to and then freaked out and wanted time to think? Phone call? In person? Hire a skywriter to write, “I accept my own proposal, meet me at the courthouse” above the fire station? It was a business arrangement, pure and simple. So, I just texted him.
If the offer still stands, I agree that marriage is the most practical solution for me. Thank you, I texted him, then waited.
I saw the three dots appear onscreen to show he was typing, and then his message popped up.
That’s the most romantic message ever. Yes! It’s all so sudden, but YES I WILL MARRY YOU! 1000X YES!
I snorted with laughter, Lmk what day works for you, goofball.
I looked up the estimates from plumbers to figure out what I’d need to repair the pipes and electrical damage. I’d already filed for replacement on the cooler and my insurance adjuster was scheduled to come on Tuesday sometime and survey the wreckage. So anytime but Tuesday, I was free to get married. That sounded weird, like being available to meet for lunch or something. Any day but Tuesday I’m free for a lifetime commitment and a legally binding contract, I thought ruefully. My only way out of this mess was to marry a man who didn’t love me. I mean, a man I didn’t love. At least there was a way out, even if it went through the garden of questionable decisions.
I wouldn’t fall for him. My sister had warned me, and as much as I didn’t like her pointing out my crush on him, I was a grown woman and knew he was being a helpful friend. A helpful friend with a killer body and a great sense of humor and intense greenish-blue eyes full of mischief and passion. A grin that made me want to do filthy—no, enough of that train of thought. He was attractive. That didn’t mean I couldn’t control myself.