Page 71 of The Kiss Class
“Technically, yes, well, in an ugly Christmas sweater or hockey jersey.”
I chuckle. “Not Professor Frenchman?” I ask, referring to a previous conversation.
“Nope.”
“Then what am I?”
She shrugs and helps herself to another potato skin.
“Let me see.”
Way to be subtle, Romeo.
“Okay, fine. You’re Mr. Arsenault.”
“Mr, huh?” That works nicely because I’m fixing to make her my Mrs.
Trying to play it cool, we chat for a few minutes about hertrip to Los Angeles, and then her phone beeps again. This time, it wasn’t me. She gets a flurry of texts and finally checks.
With a roll of her eyes, Cara says, “It’s my sisters discussing what we’re all going to wear tomorrow night at the New Year’s Eve party. Oh, and there’s one from you.” She tilts her head. “From a few minutes ago. But we’ve been together.”
Clearing my throat, I say, “Maybe you should check it.”
Giving me a squinty look of confusion, she taps the message. Cara blinks a few times and then peers up at me. I can’t fight my smile and nod. She glances back at her phone and types a reply.
I check my messages when my phone beeps.
Me: Cara, I love you. Will you marry me?
Girl of My Dreams: I told you I’d say yes.
Me: So do you?
Girl of My Dreams: Yes, Pierre! I’ll marry you.
I slide my hand under the table and find hers, then slide the engagement ring on her finger. I whisper, “I’m doing this on the down low so we don’t end up all over social media again.”
“Then why do it here?”
I take her hand, lead her across the room, and point to the ceiling. “So, we could have another Merry Kiss-mas moment.”
Cara’s smile reaches her eyes as if she realizes that I’m reenacting the evening we first met. She squeezes my hand and says, “Clever.”
I lean down and whisper, “So you’ll be my wife?”
Lifting onto her toes, she answers, “Yes.”
Our lips meet with a kiss that silences the room before thecameras start snapping photos that will show the world and the Puck Bunny fandom that this woman won my heart.
I guess this kiss will be all over social media after all, but the engagement is our special secret . . . for now.
EPILOGUE 2
I letmy sisters have the pleasure of getting me ready for the Knight’s New Year’s Eve party. My gaze flits to the shiny ring on my finger.
For old-time’s sake, we’re all wearing our respective colors, with Anna in a dark purple velvet dress with lavender fringe that’s very 1920s flapper-esque. She adds rhinestone accessories. Isla wears a red satin dress with a big bow above her butt and black heels that make her legs look ten miles long.
“You’re pretty in pink,” Anna says, zipping up the back of my dress with a fitted lacy top and a wide knee-length party skirt.
