Page 114 of Betting on the Boy Next Door
Ava and Madi step out next. “Yeah, private show!”
“Hear, hear,” Mrs. Lipsky calls from her balcony.
“Yes, rock star. We want a show.” That’s Hugo, Jasmine grinning beside him.
Something is definitely up but I have no idea what. Do they really want a show? Should I go in and grab my guitar? I bite my lip, trying to figure out what I should do here.
Madi heaves a dramatic sigh. “You’re such a diva now. I guess you need a bigger audience.”
Next, Grandma and my mom join them from under the patio, and my jaw drops. “What in the world?”
Ava shakes her head. “Still not enough, I guess. Come on out, y’all.”
The entire Brower clan fills in beside them, from Grampa Jim all the way down to Reagan’s kids.
“Josh?” I say, a quaver in my voice. I have an inkling of where this might be going.
“Wow, give her a huge audience and she still wants more,” Ruby says. “All right, if that’s what it takes.”
She waves her arm toward Josh’s back door, like she’s beckoning someone. The band soon appears, Rodney holding a set of bongos, Jules with his guitar strapped in place.
“Nowcan we get a show?” Madi asks, like she can’t believe I’m being this ridiculous.
“I . . . yes?” I say.
“Too late,” Ava says. “Looks like we’ll have to do it.”
Jules looks to someone I can’t see, his eyebrows raised, and then gives a nod before he starts picking out the melody for “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” while Rodney plays a soft beat on the bongos. Luther points a flashlight at me, spotlight style, even though it’s not full dark yet.
Then, like we’re at a freaking campfire or something, my roommates and family start singing words that are definitely not the actual lyrics.
“Sam, Sam, Sami girl, you two make quite a team. Why don’t you make it permanent, and he’ll give you a ring.”
My heart pounds as the band and my neighbors start in with a second round. “Sam, Sam, Sami, girl, you should reward his scheme, Josh has worked so hard on this, we think you sense a theme.”
Finally, the whole Brower clan takes the third round, the other two rounds continuing softly so I can hear. “Sam, Sam, Sami girl, you’ve grown in our esteem. We love you like you are our own, so join our family.”
Mr. Brower—no, Mr. Steve—is singing. Not just singing.Grinning.
Tears pop into my eyes. Just as I’m about to call for him, Josh steps out, standing on the sidewalk in front of the semicircle the rest of them have formed. He waits until they’re done singing, smiling up at me the whole time, his eyes soft.
When they finish, he goes down on one knee, and Grandma, my mom, and Miss Elizabeth all hug each other.
“Sami, I love you,” Josh says. “You probably get sick of hearing me saying it, but it’s true. You’ve had over eighteen months of evidence, and now it’s time for me to make my closing argument. You’re my favorite person in the world. You’re my best friend, and I’m better for knowing you. I would love for us to keep growing together, and I can’t imagine my life without you.”
He extends his hand to show a ring box, and he opens it. “This belonged to my grandmother. I think she’d be thrilled if you accepted it.”
There’s a soft amen from Grampa Jim.
“Samantha Marie Webster, will you marry me?”
I swallow around a very big lump in my throat, and my voice cracks and wavers when I ask, “Do I get ice cream if I say yes?”
There’s a rumble of laughter and my mom’s scandalized, “Sami!”
But Josh laughs. “You get ice cream no matter what.”
“Well, hang on. I have to think.”
Then I turn around and run into the house, down the stairs, and out through the back door to launch myself at Josh with enough force that I would have bowled him over completely if his dad didn’t catch him.
“Yes, Joshua Steven Brower. Yes forever!”
As he stands to sweep me up into a kiss, Luther leads everyone in a rousing chorus of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”
And surely he is.
