Please let the time be right.
“My lips are sealed.” Maya clamps her mouth closed and mimes locking it with an invisible key. Her subsequent silence lasts less than a fraction of a second. “Hypothetically speaking, though, if I did know that a certain someone recently made a significant purchase with his employee discount, wouldn’t you want to be surprised? A true friend would keep her mouth shut.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” I shake my head. We’ve been over this before. I don’t like surprises, especially ones involving marriage proposals. “A true friend would give me a heads up so I could prepare an appropriate response.”
“An appropriate response?” Maya’s forehead crinkles in confusion. “You sound like you’re talking about replying to a job offer instead of potentially agreeing to marry the love of your life.”
A weird lump forms in my throat as her words snag inside my head. The love of my life. For a second, the memory of a handsome, chiseled face flits through my thoughts—a chiseled face that doesn’t belong to Jeremy at all, but to the man I just saw juggling packages outside FAO Schwartz. I haven’t looked into eyes that blue since the first time I was surprised by a diamond solitaire.
I blink hard, willing the vision to disappear. I probably shouldn’t be thinking about Aidan Flynn at a time like this.
“Jeremy is definitely the love of my life,” I blurt out.
“I know. That’s what I just said.” Maya studies me, frowning. “Are you okay? I thought you’d be over-the-moon excited.”
“I am.” Of course I’m excited. I’m thrilled to pieces. Any girl would be. My life is about to seriously resemble one of the Windsor I Do Christmas ads, on multiple levels.
Minus the evening gown, of course.
“Good, because you look a little like you just took a gulp of expired eggnog.” Maya’s frown deepens. “I’m beginning to think you might be right about that heads up. Clearly you need one.”
“I do,” I say, and when I realize I sound like a bride, I have the irrational urge to clamp my hand over my mouth.
What is wrong with me all of a sudden? I’m in love with Jeremy. I’ve been fantasizing about marrying him for months already. Sometimes I even take a slow walk past the beautiful display windows of the Vera Wang boutique down the street and imagine what I might look like in bridal white, heading down the aisle toward him.
“Okay. Well, because I know you and Jeremy are crazy about each other, and it would probably hurt his feelings in a major way if you accidentally got this same reindeer-in-the-headlights expression when he actually proposed, I’m going to go ahead and tell you what I know.” She takes a deep breath. “Seriously, I’m only spilling the beans so you can prepare—”
“Oh my gosh, just tell me,” I whisper-scream. It’s not just that I’m impatient. My customers are probably getting low on hot chocolate by now and wondering why I’m still hanging out at the wrapping station. Plus, the line at the charms counter appears to be multiplying by the second.
“Fine.” Maya pauses for dramatic effect. “Jeremy bought an engagement ring last week. Malik helped him pick it out, not me. I guess Jeremy thought I might ruin the surprise.”
I can’t quite manage to bite back a smile.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she says. “I totally could have kept it a secret if you hadn’t seemed so freaked out.”
An amused silence follows.
“I probably could have, anyway,” Maya concedes.
“I believe you,” I say, imagining those big shopping bags from the department store down the street that have Believe printed across the top in swirling white script.
“The ring was getting sized, so Jeremy picked it up today. That’s how I found out. And now he’s walking around this very minute with it in his pocket.” She starts vibrating with excitement again, like she’d been just moments ago before my minor, pre-proposal panic attack. “You’re going to get engaged over the holidays! Maybe even at the Eiffel Tower or on that bridge with all the love locks. It’s going to be magical.”
A strange prickling sensation crawls up the back of my neck.
Magical.
It’s the second time in just a few minutes that someone’s used that word. My cute little customer described her charm bracelet the exact same way.
I glance quickly in the direction of the hot cocoa stand and the wall of picture windows overlooking Madison Avenue. The child’s father has rid himself of his empty cup and is looking around the sales floor, no doubt pondering what’s taking me so long.
“I have to get back to work before I get in trouble,” I say.
“Of course you do.” Maya waves me off. “I’ll straighten up the wrap area and get back downstairs.”
“Thank you.” I grin. “And thank you so much for running up here to tell me the big news, even though it’s supposed to be a secret. I owe you big time.”
Maya throws her arms around me before I can take a step. “Ahh! I’m just so happy for you.”
She releases me, and I nibble my bottom lip because it’s trembling all of a sudden and I think I might cry.
Save it, I tell myself. Save all your happy tears for Jeremy.
They are happy tears, aren’t they?
I give Maya’s hand a tight squeeze, take a steadying breath and start walking toward my customers. My mind whirls and the snow outside falls harder than ever, making me feel as if I’ve been placed inside a snow globe that someone has given a ferocious shake.
The Windsor bag containing the wrapped bracelet shakes in my grasp. Three floors below, Jeremy has an engagement ring tucked into one of his pockets. I try to imagine him slipping it onto my finger at one of the outrageously romantic Parisian sites Maya mentioned. Or maybe someplace different, like the Champs-Élysées, with row upon row of sparkling Christmas lights lining the path to the Arc de Triomphe.
And then it hits me.
Jeremy wants to take me to dinner tonight for a “special pre-Paris celebration.” I assumed he wanted to talk logistics for the trip—what we’ll do for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, which sights we’ll have time to visit, maybe go over the names of his family members again, so I’ll be prepared. But that twinkle in his eye when he mentioned dinner didn’t have anything to do with our itinerary, did it?
My boyfriend isn’t going to propose on the love locks bridge or anywhere else in France. He’s going to ask me to marry him in New York.
Right here.
Tonight.
Chapter Three