Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64887 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“Hey, don’t stress it,” Max says. Clearly, he’s reacting to whatever he sees on my face. “She gave you a smoke signal, remember? You’ve got this, brother, no matter how you decide to do it.” He smiles. “Gray, I was there when you met her for the first time, remember? And no offense, but you were a total fucking dork. Despite that fact, however—or maybe because of it—she wanted to leave the bar with you. She wanted to spend the whole weekend, screwing you. And she hasn’t wanted to leave your side, ever since. Obviously, no matter how you ask her, or how badly you might think you’re screwing it up, you’re still going to sweep her off her feet. Because you’re you.”
I feel my cheeks turning red. “Thanks, Max. That was a surprisingly good pep talk.”
Max grabs his drink. “I’m a lawyer, dude. I get paid big bucks to spew a load of bullshit and make it sound like I believe every word.”
“Oh.”
“Just kidding. I meant every word. You’ve got this.”
I clink his drink with mine. “Well, whether that speech was bullshit or not, it’s given me the confidence to go with my initial idea. I’m gonna book a fancy suite during our trip to LA in a couple weeks, take her on a romantic walk at sunset, and surprise her with a string quartet playing ‘Going to the Chapel’ on the sand. While the music is playing and the waves are crashing, I’ll get down on bended knee, pull out that whopper of a ring, and ask the most amazing woman in the world to be my wife.”
Max can’t help chuckling. “Damn, Gray. You’ve put some real thought into this. That’s a damned good plan.”
I exhale with relief. “You think?”
“It’s perfect. Not even the slightest bit dorky.”
“Then that’s what I’ll do.” I bite my lip. “Should I hire an airplane to fly by, right as I’m kneeling down? I was thinking it could fly a banner that says, ‘Marry me, Pulchritudinous Goddess!’”
Max chortles. “And . . . the dork is back.”
“She’ll like it. Trust me.”
“Nix the plane, Gray. That’s too many moving parts with timing and everything. Plus, you said she’s private, right? You’re already pushing it to have four musicians standing there when you ask her.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Thanks.”
“Sure thing.”
“But otherwise, the plan is solid gold, right?”
“It’s diamond-encrusted platinum, baby.”
I raise my drink, yet again, and we clink. “Thanks, brother. You want to be my best man?”
“Fuck yes.”
“Awesome. Thanks.” My cheeks hurt from smiling. “I’m so glad you helped me figure this out. This proposal will be the one Selena tells her father and Drew about. And all her friends, too. God help me, when everyone asks how I popped the question to her, I want Selena to feel proud of the story she tells them.”
20
GRAYSON
My 27th birthday bash in the summer sunshine of Selena’s sprawling backyard is in full swing—and hot damn, this birthday party’s bumping! The DJ hired by Selena is perfect—fun and upbeat without being cheesy. The catered barbeque is delicious, while the specialty cocktails, including “The Grey Goose Grayson”—all drinks prepared by a smiling, professional bartender—are a huge hit.
Everyone in attendance at this shindig, whether they’re dancing on the small dance floor, swimming in the pool, or sprawled out at tables or in loungers, is visibly having a great time. Even the various dogs running around with Daisy seem to be in doggie heaven.
I’m presently standing next to Selena, chatting with several of the coders on my team. Selena is wearing a blue sundress that flatters her curves. I’m wearing green swim trunks and a “Mariners” baseball cap, with one hand holding Selena’s and the other holding my third “Grey Goose Grayson.” I’m feeling buzzed and happy, thanks to the booze and pure joy coursing through my bloodstream. I can’t believe Selena even thought to throw me a birthday party, let alone such an elaborate, kickass one as this.
Selena hatched the idea about a month ago, during one of our regular family dinners. Selena asked her son what he’d like to do for his fifteenth birthday, which at the time was upcoming in a few months. Specifically, she asked if Drew wanted a big party or, instead, to enjoy some exciting activity with Eddie.
“Which idea sounds more fun to you?” Drew asked me.
“Oh, I’m not the right person to ask,” I replied. “Since I’ve never had a birthday party, I have no basis of comparison.”
Drew was flabbergasted. “You’ve never had a birthday party? Not even as a little kid?”
I shook my head. “It’s not like my mother ignored my birthday, if that’s what you’re picturing. She always made my favorite meal for my big day, and I got to have a friend over for a sleepover. My mom and I didn’t have family beyond each other, and I wasn’t the kind of kid who had tons of friends, so it never occurred to me to ask for a birthday party. Who would I invite?”