Page 84 of Curious
“Shelby, I’m down on one knee before you, in front of your whole office. And I want to tell you how much you mean to me. I want to share a lifetime of inside jokes, and I want to spend all my days and nights with you.”
Someone wolf whistles. I’d wager it’s Danny, but I don’t know for sure.
“I’d better move this along,” I say, “before these guys take over for me. Shelby Borchard, I love you more than I ever imagined I could love someone. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Would you do me the honor of staying married to me?” My heart is beating so fast I think I might pass out.
The look on Shelby’s face makes my stomach drop, and then he shakes his head. Oh god, I went out on a limb, and he’s going to say no.
Fuck. I’m being rejected, in public, in front of a crowd of people I know.
Again.
But then he huffs out a breath. “Camden Cooper, you are unbelievable. Yes, of course. I love you, too.”
“So that means you’ll stay married to me?” I say hopefully. I hand him a ring that I had engraved with our initials.
“Yes,” he whispers, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand. The whole office explodes into applause, and I let out a sigh of relief.
“I don’t understand,” one of his coworkers whispers, loud enough for me to hear it. “Were they going to split up? I’m so confused.”
“I’ll explain later,” Alden mutters.
I stand and tug Shelby into my arms. “I know this is public as all hell,” I say, “and if you want to talk about it more after—”
“No,” he says. “I’m certain. But wait a second.” He wiggles out of my arms and runs to the back of the reception desk, then returns with something and hands it to me. It’s gift-wrapped and feels like a big book.
“What is this?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I made it for you.”
While sometimes it feels good to just rip the wrapping off a present, this feels like I need to be a bit more reverent and careful. Not just with the packaging, but with Shelby’s heart.
“Open it up,” Charlie calls.
“Hush,” I say. I slide the tip of my finger under the tape on one side, and it gives easily. Soon I’ve exposed a photo album. I give Shelby a kiss. “Wow.”
“Okay, everyone, let’s give them some privacy,” Noah calls. People nod and call out their congratulations as they disperse, and soon it’s just me and Shelby.
“Did you make me a scrapbook?” I ask.
He bites his lip. “Yeah.” His voice sounds scratchy.
I learn why the moment I open the album. The first page is our wedding-day photo, alongside one I didn’t know Charlie or, more likely, Alden had taken of us kissing.
My finger traces the edge of the photo. “Damn.”
Shelby doesn’t say anything, and I turn the page. Our wedding license is next, followed by a shot of us at lunch that afternoon that the server insisted on snapping for us.
I take a seat in one of the reception chairs, and as I go through the album, I see that Shelby has filled it with dozens of memories from the past few months.
Every little slip of paper from a cookie.
A photo of the Ferris wheel at the Santa Monica Pier.
Stills fromStar Warsshowing OSHA violations and HR problems.
The menu from the brunch place we went for his anti-birthday.
An image from the video of us painting the living room, arm in arm and splattered in pale yellow.
