Page 1 of Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

CHAPTER 1A Viral Beginning

Most people would agree that marriage proposals weren’t supposed to make you nauseous. Yet here I was, a girl standing in front of a boy on his knees, with a stunning diamond ring in his hand, and all I wanted to do was hurl my dinner and hightail it out of the country.

The very prim and polished George Fitzgerald, aka the man of my family’s dreams, smiled at me. “Elizabeth Rae Pang,” he crooned my name, like it was a line in a Sinatra song, “will you marry me?”

The sparkly rock was winking at me, goading me to say yes. Our families were beaming at us, while all the guests had their phones up high, recording every glorious second. The Pangs’ annual NYE bash had come to a grinding halt fifteen minutes before midnight, and I’d bet my entire savings the videos would be posted online before the clock struck twelve. Hell, we might even be live streaming right now. We’d only been going out for two months—two brunches, one (boring) date to the opera, and a handful of dinners—and he wanted toget married?

“Ellie?” George was still smiling. I never realized how disturbingly white and straight his teeth were. “What do you say?”

An involuntary shiver rippled through my body. Maybe the crystal chandelier above my head was too bright. Or maybe my glucose level was dipping low. Or because the band was playing a slow, romantic song that screeched like nails on a chalkboard to my ears. We were standing inside a heart-shaped spot, surrounded by dozens of long-stemmed roses and tealight candles floating in wineglasses. Apart from the obvious fire hazard, the proposal was textbook perfect, although all credits probably belonged to his PA.

How long had it been since George had finished his speech? I glanced at my family again, sighing when I saw Mom’s face twisting with impatience and Dad’s eyebrows knitting together. An eerie hush had enveloped the ballroom. The band was no longer screeching, and the only audible sound was my heart jackhammering behind my rib cage.

George shifted his knee, stoically hiding a wince. “I know this might seem sudden. But I think we have something special, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Okay, let’s pretend for a moment that I was delusional enough to consider his proposal. I’d do a pros and cons list on my list-maker app, and it would look something like this:

Pro:

Con:

1. He is kind, handsome, patient with children. He’d make the perfect husband, father, and son-in-law (100 points).

1. This was driven by a master plan to unite their family business with ours, which would mean I’d be pressured into working for them for the rest of my life (minus 2,000 points).

2. And the most important pro of them all (not mine, but according to both our families): The lucrative benefits and opportunities that would result from this (un)holy union. Their score would soar past 10,000 points, and from the looks on their faces, everyone was champing at the bit for me to accept.

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