“Brilliant!” He chewed with gusto, then swallowed. “Look at how much you’ve taught me so far.”
We walked, devouring our slices, along Museum Mile and turned into Central Park using the East 90th Street entrance. It was the dead of winter and the large trees were bare, but there was a festive vibe as couples filled the park, along with flower vendors, food carts, buskers, horse-drawn carriages, and pedicabs. The sidewalk was thick with hearts and flowers—love was in the air.
It took me a beat to remember why and then I had to resist the urge to do a facepalm. How had I forgotten that this was Valentine’s Day? Was there anything more awkward than walking amid goopy shmoopy couples with a veritable stranger? I felt newly confident that I could say no, there absolutely wasn’t.
As if to make a mockery of my forgetfulness, a couple stopped short right in front of us and the man dropped to one knee in prime proposal position—because of course he did.
The woman he’d been strolling with appeared shocked and not in a good way. I didn’t think this boded well for the guy. I glanced at Al to see if he’d noticed. He was staring at the couple over the remainder of his crust, completely engrossed.
He leaned close to me and said, “Looks like we’re getting dinner and a show.”
I studied the kneeling man. He practically had hearts floating out of his eyeballs, unlike the woman.
“I don’t think we’re going to like the ending of this one act play.”
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Al said.
I gave him side-eye. “I’m guessing that’s the British way of saying this is an utter disaster.”
“Quite right.” He nodded.
“Let’s get out of here,” I muttered. I hated to watch anyone else’s embarrassment. I had enough of my own on a daily basis, thanks.
Unfortunately, a crowd had gathered behind us wanting to witness the couple’s happy moment which prevented our escape. I chewed the last bite of my crust with the anxiety of a park squirrel and Al did the same.
“Justine, you’ve made me so happy,” the man said. His round face was flushed pink.
“We’ve been on three dates, Bill,” Justine protested. She was pasty pale and glistening with sweat even though it was forty-three degrees out. “I haven’t even introduced you to my cat or my mother.”
“That doesn’t matter.” He dismissed her concerns. “When it’s right it’s right.”
Bill fumbled with his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. And just like that, the crowd collectively whipped out their phones and started recording the moment. A woman behind me shrieked in delight. Justine did not look delighted. Instead, her eyes darted from side to side as if searching for an escape.
I leaned close to Al and said, “We should do something.”
“Like what?” he asked. He brushed his hands together, getting rid of the crumbs.
I shrugged. “No idea but...something.”
Bill popped the lid on the box and said, “Justine, will you ma—”
“Oy, Justine, is that you?” Al shouted.
I jumped and stared at him in surprise. I didn’t think Al was going to insert himself into the moment. I’d thought we’d just yell “Fire!” and run or something.
Al wagged his eyebrows at me, then turned back to the couple and stepped forward. Very dramatically, he opened his arms and said, “How are you? I haven’t seen you in an age.”
“I...um...” Justine stammered.
Bill’s head snapped in Al’s direction. He frowned. This was obviously not part of his plan. “Do you mind? We’re in the middle of something here.”
“I don’t mind at all,” Al said. He gazed at them expectantly. Gone was any sense of romance, which had been bargain basement to begin with. Al stood there with a vacant grin, playing at being half-witted so well that he almost had me convinced. In a very loud voice, he yelled, “I’m her cousin, Al, from across the pond—pleased to meet you.”
Al held out his hand which Bill ignored. “I thought you didn’t have any family other than your mother,” Bill said to Justine. He was still kneeling.
The crowd behind us, sensing the romantic moment had been derailed, began to disperse.
“I...” Justine blinked. She stared at Al for a second and then threw herself at him in a big hug. “Cousin Al, what a surprise!”
“I know!” Al said. “What are the odds? I’m only in town for a minute, visiting my friend Molly.” He gestured to me, and I gave Justine a tiny finger wave. Her shoulders relaxed and she smiled at me. Her relief was thicker than the perfumed air coming from the nearby flower stand.
“Fancy a quick catch up?” Al asked her. She turned from him to Bill.
“I can’t say no to family,” Justine said. She grimaced at Bill. “So sorry.”
Before he could speak, Justine looped her arm through Al’s and dragged him toward the curb. I glanced at Bill, still kneeling, and said, “Nice to meet you.” Then I dashed after them.
Justine was power walking and Al looked over his shoulder to make certain I was drafting in behind them. At the cab stand, Justine dropped his arm and faced us. “Saviors, you two are absolute saviors.”
Al and I exchanged a smile, and I said, “You did appear a bit...terrified.”
Justine clapped her hands to the knit cap on her head. “Three dates! We’ve had three dates. I hadn’t even decided if I was going to sleep with him yet.”
“Hmm.” Al hummed as if he had no idea what to say to that.
“A girl likes to try on a pair of shoes before she buys them,” I said. Al snorted.
“Exactly!” Justine cried. She opened the door to the waiting cab. “Need a lift?”
“No, thanks. We’re just down there,” Al said. He gestured vaguely to the park.
“Thank you both again,” Justine said. She was half in the cab but paused to add, “You’re a very lovely couple. I hope you have a happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh, we’re—” I began but Al interrupted me.
“Thank you.” Al closed the door after Justine and turned toward me. As the cab pulled away, he began to laugh. “Well, I did say I wanted to see New York, didn’t I?”
“That is not typical,” I said. Then I started to laugh, too. “Then again, it’s New York—anything can happen.”
He took my hand and pulled me along the sidewalk back to the park entrance. There was no sign of Bill for which I was grateful. Given his rush to wed Justine, I thought he might have already found another woman to propose to.
“Poor Bill,” Al said. He shook his head, and I knew we were thinking the same thing.
“He brought it upon himself,” I retorted. “I mean, a proposal on the third date. Who does that?”
“Maybe he fell in love at first sight,” Al said.
“There’s no such thing,” I protested.
“Molly Graham, don’t tell me you don’t believe in love at first sight.” He tutted. Why I found this charming, I had no idea.
We entered the park, which was still crowded but not nearly as much as the street had been. A couple on a tandem bicycle was coming toward us and Al let go of my hand to let them pass between us. He did not retrieve my hand, much to my disappointment, which was ridiculous.