Futures and Frosting (Chocolate Lovers #2)(7)

Seriously. Google a picture of a coconut. I’ll wait. Because you really need to get the full effect of what I saw dangling there for the twenty seconds it took for me to get my head out of my ass and scream insults at both of them.

All of this, while nightmare inducing, had made me realize that when I found Claire, I knew I would do whatever it took to never lose her again.

We may have done everything ass backwards, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Claire and Gavin are my whole world and I want to make it official. I want her to know that nothing could tear me away from them and that I am in it for the long haul. Pushing the nerves aside, I smile as I stare at my future and a big chunk of my savings account tucked into the small, velvet box. I close the lid with a snap just as Drew walks into the kitchen dangling his keys from the tip of his index finger, holding them out away from his body as far as possible.

“So you’re really going to do it, huh? You’re going to make an honest woman out of Claire?” he asks as he runs water in the sink, dumps in about a half a bottle of liquid soap, and throws his keys into the growing pile of bubbles. He shuts the water off and turns around to lean against the counter. I give him and the sink a questioning look and he just shrugs his shoulders.

“I found them in the tank of the toilet. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Gavin chooses that moment to run into the room and I lift him up into my arms before I can ask Drew why this is the second time in a month he’s lost his keys in my toilet.

“Why is Uncle Drew washing dishes?” Gavin asks as he wrapped his arms around my neck.

“I’m not washing dishes. I’m washing my keys,” Drew explains with his back to us as he splashes in the water trying to retrieve them. He flings them out of the sink as he turns back around, splattering Gavin and I with suds.

“You don’t wash keys. That’s dumb,” Gavin replies seriously.

“Um, hello? You do too wash keys. Especially if they have your poop on them because they were in your toilet,” Drew replies as he shakes the excess suds off of his key ring.

“I don’t poop on keys! YOU poop on keys!” Gavin yells angrily. “I’m going to stick your head in the toilet!”

I probably should have intervened by now, but sometimes this is the highlight of my day. I unwind Gavin’s arms from my neck and set him back down.

“Okay, that’s enough. Gavin, go in your room and get your baseball hat. It’s almost time to pick up mommy and go to the game.”

Gavin takes off running but not before giving Drew a dirty look.

“Dude, that kid has anger issues. I hope you sleep with one eye open at night,” Drew mutters as he watches Gavin run off. He turns back to face me and crosses his arms in front of him. “So, you took my suggestion and went with the baseball game proposal. Nice. Good work.”

“As much as it pains me to say this, it was a really good idea. A guy at work got a bunch of free tickets to the Indian’s game today because his daughter works for the concierge desk at Progressive Field. According to this guy, they don’t allow you to just pay for a proposal to be put up on the scoreboard anymore. He gave me his daughter’s work number and she told me about this whole proposal package they have. So, for three hundred dollars I am now the proud owner of a Cleveland Indian’s Proposal Package,” I explain proudly.

“Will those three hundred dollars assure that they might actually win a game this year?” Drew asks.

I shake my head. “Probably not. But, it does get us moved to VIP seating in a loge after I propose, a five-by-seven glossy photo of the proposal as it was seen on the scoreboard, a dozen red roses, and a gift certificate to the Terrace Club restaurant right at the park so we can have dinner to celebrate,” I say with a smile as I grab my non-toilet-infested car keys off of the counter along with my wallet.

“If she says yes, you mean. Otherwise that’s just going to be the most depressing photo you will ever have hanging on your wall and a really uncomfortable dinner,” Drew supplies with a sad shake of his head.

“Thank you so much for that vote of confidence,” I deadpan.

And now the nerves are back. But I won’t let them get to me. I’ve been wracking my brain for weeks trying to come up with a unique and special way to propose to Claire, and when she mentioned casually that she’d never taken Gavin to an Indian’s game, I knew it would be the perfect setting. It will be in front of thousands of people and our son will be there to witness it. What could be better than that? And really, what woman wouldn’t love it?

~

During the sixth inning is when everything went to shit. Aside from the Drew-induced nervous stomach I suffered from during the first five innings, we are having a great time. Gavin is amazed by the ballpark and the Indians were up by seven. As my knee bounces up and down, and I force myself not to buy another hot dog to give myself something to do because eight ballpark hot dogs is where I draw the line, I try not to think about the fact that I never asked Claire’s father for her hand in marriage. That is something people still did nowadays, isn’t it? Would George be mad at me that I didn’t have a formal sit-down with him to discuss our upcoming nuptials and whether or not he approved? And now that I have said the word, “sit-down,” I am having flashes of George wearing a three-piece suit and fedora staring at me across a plate of half-eaten linguini while he steeples his fingers under his chin and then excuses himself to go to the bathroom so he can get the gun he hid behind the toilet and shoot me in the head.