Page 40 of Choosing a Forever
“What do you mean? We’re getting married in three weeks. I don’t think you should wait until then to tell them. I think that would—”
“That’s not what I mean by official,” he interrupts, rubbing his hands on his thighs.
“Then what do you mean?”
Tal clears his throat, stands from his chair, reaches into his pocket, and gets down on one knee in front of me.
My eyes probably look like saucers.
Is he…?
No.
Surely not.
He pulls out a gray velvet box.
Oh, God, he is!
“Mackenzie Thorpe,” he starts, speaking loud enough he gets the attention of the whole restaurant. The music gets softer, and the hushed voices of the other patrons go quiet, listening intently to the absolutelyinsaneman on his knee in front of me.
“When we were fourteen, I fell for the girl who was bad at math and scared of spiders. The girl who obsessively listened to Taylor Swift and wouldwrite love notes with hearts dotting the ‘i’s.’ You once told me we were like Cory and Topanga fromBoy Meets World.Our time wasn’t then, but you knew we’d always find our way back to each other. We may have lost touch for a little while, but you were right. Our souls found each other again, and I’ll forever be grateful they did.
“We may not be exactly who we were as teenagers, but now I’ve fallen for the woman who’s strong, who will do anything to take care of those she loves. The woman who’s been dealt a difficult hand in life but is resilient and hasn’t let it consume her. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, not to mention the most beautiful. I knew I wanted to marry you as a teenager, and I know I want to marry you now.”
He opens the box, and my breath gets caught in my throat. Nestled against the padding is the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.
“Mack, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?”
My vision goes blurry. I’m so overwhelmed by his sweet words and the slew of emotions drowning my senses, all I can do is nod.
It’s not real.My reasonable brain whispers, but I ignore it for now. I’ll sob about the fact it’s fake later.
Talmage’s smile rivals the afternoon sun with how bright it is. There’s a sheen of tears in his own eyes, making the blue irises glow as he slips the ring on my finger—a perfect fit.
He stands and pulls me into the tightest hug, whispering, “I’m going to kiss you now,” in my ear. He pulls back slightly and cups my face.
I give an imperceptible nod, knowing a kiss will make this all more believable, even as I know it’ll completely wreck me.
The restaurant erupts into cheers and applause as he wraps one arm around my waist, cups my face with the other, and brings his lips to mine.
Everything else fades away, though, and all I can see and hear and smell and taste is Talmage.
Talmage Monson is kissing me.
Gentle and cautious, our lips meet, and maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear he whimpers at the contact. Then he apparently decides to throw caution to the wind; he kisses me harder, more urgently, like he’s worried I might pull away. His grip on my waist tightens, and his thumb brushes my cheek as his lips press intently against mine.
My senses return when a moan threatens to work its way up my throat, and I pull back, panting and blinking up at him. He didn’t even slip me his tongue, and I’m hot and bothered.
No, no, no. I cannot be horny for my fake fiancé. It’s just the first human affection I’ve had other than hugs from Lizzie or the twins in years, and my body is confused.
Tal’s eyes are glassy as he stares into mine. Almost as if he’s in a trance, he brings his thumb up to my lips and swipes it across them.
“Smudge proof,” he whispers.
“Yeah,” I whisper back.
“Mack, I—”
