Bastard(85)

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Are you ready to order now, Sir?” the waiter asks reappearing at our table.

“Yes, thanks,” Mark replies. As the waiter rattles off the chef’s suggestions, I tune him out. I already know Mark’s going to order for me. He always does. His father orders for his mother as well. I guess he thinks that’s the way it’s done.

Maybe in the sixteenth century.

While we wait for the food to arrive, we talk about work. Our conversations seem to always divert in that direction. I guess when you and your partner do the same thing for a living that happens. I must admit though, I think it’s the only thing we really have in common. That thought saddens me for some reason.

My mind drifts to Meg. God I miss her. It’s times like this I could use her shoulder. Her advice is what I crave. She’s the only one I could talk to about this situation. She knows me better than anyone.

She’s living on the other side of the world with her husband, Drew. He’s in IT. That’s how they met. She hated school, so instead of going to college like me, she headed straight into the workforce when she finished her senior year in high school.

She instantly fell head-over-heels in love, which was surprising for her. I guess he was the one. It was a whirlwind romance. They were married within a year. Then he was offered a position looking after the company’s overseas branches. It was a huge opportunity for him. Naturally Meg followed her husband.

There’s a huge gap in my life without her in it. We talk on the phone when we can, but it’s not the same as having her living nearby when I need her. Like now. She adores her husband, but hates being shuffled around from one place to the next. As soon as she gets settled, they up and move again. I can hear the sadness in her voice every time we talk on the phone. She has so many of her own dramas going on at the moment, I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to burden her down with mine.

Once we’ve eaten, Mark asks me if I’d like to dance. I almost say no, but when I see the look of expectation in his eyes, I don’t. He’s gone to a lot of effort tonight. The least I can do is go along with it.

He holds me in his arms as we move to a slow song. “Do you know how much I love you?” he whispers in my ear when the song comes to an end. Guilt consumes me again. I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. I tighten my grip around his waist, holding him against me, savouring the feeling of being held by the man who loves me.

When the music stops, Mark releases me. Turning to walk back towards our table, I’m stopped when he reaches for my arm, holding me in place. Facing him again, my heart drops into the pit of my stomach when I realise what he’s about to do. He takes a step backwards, and to my horror, gets down on one knee.

Holy fucking crap! I’m not ready for this.

“No, no, no,” I blurt out in a panic as I try and pull him back to his feet. Noooo. Please don’t ask me to marry you in front of all these people, I want to scream, but before I get a chance, he pulls the ring out of his pocket and holds it out towards me.

“Indiana Montgomery, I love you. Please say you’ll spend the rest of your life with me.” At first I stand there in stunned silence. I feel dreadful. My eyes dart around the restaurant. Everybody has stopped what they’re doing and are now watching this horrible scene unfold. I find myself wishing a big black hole would open up beneath me and swallow me whole.

Even before Carter came back on the scene, I knew I wasn’t ready for this kind of commitment. I’m only twenty-two. There’s so much I want to experience before I even think of settling down. Like traveling the world for one. How can I say no to him in front of all these people? I can’t lie and say yes either. That would be so much worse.

My eyes meet his again as he waits for my answer. I see hope, then desperation cross his face. I feel tears burn my eyes. The pleading look in his eyes makes my heart hurt, but I still can’t bring myself to answer him. Then his expression turns to anger. I continue to stand there in stunned silence.

A few seconds later he rises to his feet. “I can’t believe you’d embarrass me in front of all these people,” he snarls through gritted teeth. How is this my fault? We’ve never even discussed marriage.

“I’m sorry,” is all I manage to get out, in a voice that doesn’t even sound like mine. He doesn’t reply. Instead he turns and storms away, heading towards the exit. I run after him. Words cannot express how terrible I feel.

“Mark. Mark, wait,” I call out as I chase after him.

“Go to hell,” is all he says as he abruptly pushes the restaurant door open and walks out into the night. I continue after him.