Page 26 of My Irish Roommate

13

THE PROPOSAL

RICKI

The last few weeks have been the best weeks of my life. With all of the stress and fear behind me, I feel as if I can truly invest all of my emotional energy into building my relationship with Rowan. He’s been so attentive and loving that sometimes I can’t believe he’s real.

Tonight is a special night for us, and he’s taking me out somewhere. It’s officially been one month since I arrived in Ireland, and Rowan wants to celebrate but won’t tell me where we’re going.

“I have to know how to dress. I’d look pretty silly wearing a dress and heels to the bowling alley,” I whine.

“You can dress up but make sure you wear a sweater or jacket. That’s all I’m going to say,” he grins.

Assuming that we’re going to be outdoors, I decide to wear a lavender pantsuit, heels, and a sweater. I almost second-guess myself because Rowan loves to tell me how much he loves seeing my legs, but he catches me evaluating myself in the mirror and says, “You look good enough to eat.”

We leave for our adventure, and after a short drive, we pull off at the marina. The sky is sprinkled with stars and the full moon hangs brightly in the center. It’s the perfect night to be by the water. Rowan holds my hand as we stroll along the pier and watch the sailboats drift by.

“This kind of reminds me of home,” I tell him. “I used to like looking out on the harbor.”

“A little bird told me that you spent a lot of time at Boston Harbor. That’s why I decided to bring you here.”

“There’s only one bird that would know that information. When did you speak to my mother?” I ask.

“Our parents are meeting us for dinner tonight,” he springs on me.

“How did that happen? Did my mother wiggle her way in?”

“No, baby. I invited them.”

I’m stunned, but before I can question him further, I see our parents headed our way. They’re arm in arm and look very happy together. I squeeze Rowan’s hand and whisper, “What are you up to?”

“Don’t question me, baby. You’ll ruin the surprise,” he whispers back.

My mother holds her arms out, and I embrace her. She kisses my cheek and says, “You look lovely in that.”

“Thank you, Mom. You look great as well,” I reply.

“Our reservation is for eight so we should head to the restaurant,” Rowan tells us and we all walk toward the Warf restaurant. It’s a beautiful weathered wood building with a nautical theme.

Rowan advises us that we’ll be dining on the balcony as the waiter leads us up the stairs to the second floor. The covered balcony is decorated with tiny lanterns and candle-lit tables. To me, it almost looks magical.

We take our seats and I ask, “Are there menus?”

“Not tonight, baby. I’ve already ordered. Just sit back, have some wine, and enjoy the beautiful view.”

“It is pretty,” I answer and check to see if Rowan is looking out at the water, but his eyes are fixed on me.

He smirks, “I agree, beautiful.” Perhaps it’s because my mother is here, but I find myself blushing when he says it.

We’re a few glasses of wine in when our dinner arrives. We’re served a variety of local fish dishes and sides buffet style and everyone digs right in. The mood is light, and my mother seems especially at ease with Rowan.

Her demeanor causes me to wonder what they spoke about besides my love of seafood and Boston Harbor. Somewhere in that conversation, they must have arrived at an understanding.

The waiter returns several times with more food and fresh bottles of wine, and I wonder just how much this extravagance is costing Rowan. Not that he ever complains about finances. I imagine the gym does very well.

When we’ve eaten our fill, the waiter returns with Guinness chocolate mousse and a bottle of champagne. Rowan pours us each a glass and stands.

“I’d like to make a toast,” he says and we all raise our glasses.

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