Pretending to be Pregnant

Eleven

"Dinner was lovely." I told Ryan as we walked along the beach, hand in hand. In my other, spare, free, hand I held my nude heels. I was walking along the soft beach surface barefoot and vulnerable. The waves smashed against the beach, casually throwing sediment onto the surface of the sand, before whipping away stray beach material. The swish and the smash of the waves was a comforting sound as we walked along, our bodies occassionally touching causing a surge of electricity. I had scooped up the end of my dress and now had it clasped in the hand that was holding my heels. I didn't want to ruin it by allowing it to drag along the sand.

The beach was fairly empty, apart from a couple of tourists and a few couples like us. In the distance, I could vaguely see a family and a dog. The family contained two beautiful children, twins, I think, who were repeatedly throwing a wooden stick into the sea for the dog to fetch. Every time the dog eagerly returned, the stick in it's mouth, ready for the repetitive play. I smiled, hoping that one day, Ryan and I would be exactly like the family.

As we walked along, I felt the sand graze in between my toes, tickling my skin with the grainy material. The soft, comforting, sand made me feel safe on the dark beach. It was similar to a soft, comforting blanket. 

Night had fallen and the beach was almost pitch black. The only source of light came from the joyfull restaurants at the top of the beach and the stunning moon up above in the surrounding sky. It was a perfect, clear evening; if a little cold. I shivered slightly. I'd forgotten to pick up a cardigan before I'd left earlier and as a result, my bare arms were covered in light goose pimples.

"Are you cold?" Ryan asked, noticing my tremor.

"A little." Before I knew it, Ryan was shrugging off his black blazer jacket and helping me into it. He simply just stood there in his fresh, crisp white shirt, the sea scenery surrounding him, looking like some kind of Greek god. His beautiful hair ruffled slightly in the wind and he ran his hand through it.

"Thank you." I gratefully hugged the jacket to my body. It smelt of his fresh cologne and it felt like he was constantly wrapped around my body; hugging me.

Ryan smiled down at me as we walked across the soft, clean, sand, taking in the picturesque views. The night sky was dark and cloudless and the full moon glimmered, reflecting off the sea water. All of a sudden, Ryan came to a halt. Instantly stopping in his tracks. He quickly looked around, left, right, before turning towards me. I smiled and thinking he was going to kiss me, leaned closer towards him.

"Esme," Ryan let out a gasp of air before falling down onto one knee. The action itself shocked me so much I nearly fell over and toppled into the golden sand. Instead, I gasped in surprise and dropped my heels onto the sand in shock. "Please, just let me say this." Ryan interrupted me, seeing that I was about to speak as I opened my mouth, ready. I nodded, closed my open mouth and smiled encouragingly at him. "Esme, you are so beautiful. And for so long now, well, you've been the only person I've ever loved. Now, everything seems to be falling into place.  Especially as you're carrying my first child." I guiltily looked away at this point, but Ryan continued to smile up at me and feeling his eyes on my face, I quickly turned back towards him, making sure that I was masking my guilt. "Esme, I want our family to be perfect. I want you to be mine, forever more. Esmeralda. Amelia. Ashbury. Will you do the honor of marrying me?" For a moment I just sat there in silence. A shocked silence. Ryan was obviously feeling awkward, so he spoke once more, trying to reassure me. "I already asked your father's permission." Ryan told me. I giggled, it was such an old gesture! But, all the same, I nodded, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"Yes. Yes, I will marry you!" I told him as he stood up and, forgetting to brush the sand from his knee, lifted me in his arms and smiled.

"Before the baby comes?" He enquired. I raised my eyebrows at him, shocked at the urgency which obviously compelled him.