The Proposal(7)

“Oh yeah, right. That part.” Nik put her head down on the table. “I think I need to just stay here for the next few days. Throw a blanket over me and just leave me here in the bar, and for the love of God, take my phone with you. Maybe by the time I resurface, everyone will forget that any of this ever happened.”

Dana patted Nik on the back and Courtney took the phone that Nik had tossed on the table and tucked it away in her pocket.

Someone pushed her drink against her hand. She grabbed it, lifted her head, took a sip, and put her head back down on the table. Thank God for bourbon.

“Did I forget anything else?” Nik sat up and pushed her hair back.

“I saw the ring,” Angela said.

“WHAT?” the whole table said in unison.

Angela looked at Carlos.

“You didn’t see it? Oh yeah. He opened the ring box when he first got down on one knee, and the camera zeroed in on the ring. I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”

She knew there was a reason she’d wanted Carlos and Angela to stay.

“Well?” Nik asked. “Don’t keep me in suspense. What did it look like? Please tell me you remember.”

Angela paused.

“Okay, you know the Kate Middleton ring, right? The Princess Diana one? With the huge sapphire in the middle and diamonds all around it? It looked just like that. Except smaller.”

Nik banged her drink down on the table. It sloshed everywhere, but she was past the point of caring.

“Does he think he’s some kind of a prince?” She took a deep breath. “Wait, that sounded mean. That was mean, I guess. But . . .”

“But you are not a princess ring kind of person,” Courtney finished.

“But I am not a princess ring kind of person!” Nik said. “Nothing against princess rings, but IF I wanted an engagement ring from him—which I absolutely did not—it wouldn’t have been a replica of a princess ring. He obviously doesn’t know me that well; I’m not a baseball-game proposal kind of person, either. But seriously, a princess ring? For ME?”

“You did get up at four a.m. to watch Harry and Meghan’s wedding though,” Dana said.

“That was different,” Nik said. “Anyway, is there anything else I missed about the proposal?” she asked Carlos and Angela. “Am I remembering the forlorn look on Fisher’s face correctly?”

Carlos shrugged. “He looked more outraged than forlorn, really. Like a kid having a tantrum.”

Yeah . . . that sounded like Fisher, unfortunately. She mopped up her spilled drink with some of the extra napkins Pete had left on the table.

“Carlos is right,” Angela said. “No offense, but he seemed like kind of a baby.”

Nik shrugged and sighed. Fisher had been kind of a baby. A baby with beautiful blond hair he constantly admired in the mirror and great abs. So yeah, it made sense that he would yell and storm off when she’d publicly rejected his proposal.

“None taken. He was kind of a baby. But babies can be pretty great sometimes—isn’t that why people like them?”

Carlos cleared his throat.

“As a professional baby expert: people like babies because they’re cute, they have big heads, and because they’re pretty helpless without us. They can scream really loudly, though.”

Courtney nodded.

“Yep, that sounds like Fisher. Down to the big—”

“COURTNEY!”

Dana and Courtney giggled and high-fived, and Nik tried and failed to suppress her laughter.

“You two are the worst friends in the history of the world, do you know that?”

They nodded, still laughing.

“We know,” Dana said.



* * *



? ? ?

    Carlos coughed. Maybe they needed a reminder that there was a guy at the table with them?

Nope, that just made all four women, his little sister included, glance his way and laugh harder. Excellent. He looked at Nik, who was looking back at him. She winked at him. He grinned and winked back.

One of the friends’ phone buzzed. Dana, right? She was the black one who looked like a model. Courtney was the Korean one with pink lipstick on.

“Pizza’s here!” she said. A few minutes later, a huge pizza box covered their table, and they all had big pieces of pizza in their hands, the pepperoni oil dripping onto more napkins that the bartender had thrown onto their table.

“I didn’t even ask if anyone was a vegetarian or gluten-free or anything,” Dana said. He and Angela both shook their heads.

“This is a Los Angeles rarity, to have five people at a table all dig into a cheese-covered, two-meat, gluten-filled pizza without hesitating.”

Nik lifted her almost empty glass.

“To new friends and gluten!”

They all toasted and stuffed pizza into their mouths.

“Wait.” Nik looked up at him and started to say something, but stopped to finish chewing her bite of pizza. “Did you say a few minutes ago that you’re a baby expert?”

His sister just shook her head.

“My brother. Always with the delusions of grandeur.”

He had the opportunity to impress three attractive women with his degrees and knowledge—could his sister at least try to be a good wingman here?