[COMPLETED] There are two things you can count on in a small town, bad weather and boys who can make your heart thump faster than a horse's hooves
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Beatrice was used to her relatively quiet life, but th...
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"Beatrice, what I'm trying to say is, will you marry me?" His hands start to tremble and I know I have to answer soon or he'll faint from lack of blood flow. I can't help but look into his eyes; they've started to twinkle with tears, or from the fancy light dangling from the ceiling above us that may be reflecting onto them. I pray it's the latter. I glance over his shoulder at the people sitting around us in the restaurant, all waiting for my response as if what I say could somehow alter their lives. I cautiously look down at him from my seated position, he's on one knee, on the ground, and I hope that my face isn't showing how upset I am at his proposal. I smile - at least I think I do and bend to hug him. Everyone claps, not knowing that I hadn't said yes. But it doesn't seem to matter. My hug had been expressed differently than anything my face portrayed.
"Congratulations," I hear an elderly lady whisper as she passes me, her arm entwined in her husband's. My lip twitches into a forced and awkward smile. The whole dinner he smiles at me and holds my now weighted hand. I can't help but stare and pick at my food. My appetite had suddenly vanished.
"What's wrong, did you want to order something else?" He asks, his voice laced with concern. I look up at him alarmed.
"Oh no, I'm just too shocked to eat now," I smile, trying to convince him, and he smiles back.
This is what I wanted right?
"We can get something to take it home in," He suggests, pointing toward the untouched food on my plate. I nod appreciatively and he makes a gesture to the blond waitress hovering in the back corner.
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The ride home is awkward, at least for me it was, he was chatting away about our future when the wedding would be, all the stuff I was hoping he'd wait to discuss. I tune him out and nod every so often. Some time in the middle of his rambling I feel his hand squeeze my hand and I feel my heart momentarily falter in my chest.
The trees are blowing back and forth in a sort of ritualistic dance that seemed unnatural even for nature itself. I stared closer outside my window, the gloomy, thick sky evidence of bad weather to come.
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"Ryan, I think I might go to bed," I call out once we arrive home, faking a yawn. Standing by the entrance to the downstairs sitting room I step out of my heels and then pace into the kitchen. Opening the white cupboard I reach for a glass and turn towards the fridge. Ryan follows close behind and massages my shoulders as I sip on the cold fridge water.
