His Secretary:Undone(42)

There's an ominous crashing sound outside. "What the fuck is that?" I  ask Peter, who looks like he's already calculating his cut of the pile  of cash.

"The rain," he says, simply. "What the hell did you expect, coming here during monsoon season?"

I've got to laugh. I didn't even think to research the fucking weather  in fucking Hawaii before I planned my trip, because Meg used to handle  all my travel arrangements and I don't know how to be a normal human.

"It doesn't sound like rain. It sounds like the fucking apocalypse," I remark, shoving the ring in my pocket.         

     



 

"It's not so bad. But we should hurry before any of the roads get flooded out."

Well, fuck me.

***

The worn-out wipers on Peter's car are working overtime, but it hardly  helps. His radio is blasting, Beyoncé telling me that if I like it, I  should put a ring on it.

I'm trying.

I lean forward. "Why aren't we moving?"

"Remember what I said about the roads being flooded out?" He grins at me. "They got rain where you're from?"

He knows he's already earned his tip, and then some, so he's poking fun  at me. I know I'm dangerously close to Meg waking up - she's been  sleeping for a long time now. I wore her out thoroughly.

And I don't even have my fucking phone, to tell her where I am.

This whole thing is insane, and I'm insane, but at least I've got Beyoncé backing up my decision. I could do worse.

I could do a lot worse.

"My dad has this joke he likes," Peter says. "You know what the best thing about Hawaii is?"

"Well?"

"The weather. You know what the worst thing about Hawaii is?"

I have a pretty good idea. "The weather?"

He grins in the rearview. "You're catching on quick."

"Fuck it." I pull a wad of cash out of my wallet, and toss it on the  front seat. "Thanks for everything, Peter, but I'm going on foot."

"It's over five miles from here," he points out, looking slightly worried.

"Do I look frail to you?"

"Well, no, but … " He shakes his head. "You really love this girl, don't you?"

"I do." My hand's on the door. "At least you've got a good story out of this. You can laugh at me later."

"Nah." He grins. "I remember what it was like when I met my wife. That's  how you know it's right - even though you know you've got all the time  in the world, it feels like you can't wait. Are you gonna get married  here?"

"I hope so," I tell him. He digs a business card out of a pile of junk on his passenger seat, and hands it to me.

"This is a good place to have something last-minute," he says. "They  sort of cater to that kind of thing. And unlike my brother, they  probably won't try to rip you off just 'cause you're a rich haole."

I tuck the card into my wallet. "Mahalo, Peter."

"Aloha, my friend. Good luck." He shakes my hand before I step out into the torrential rain.





***

All the smart people have sought shelter. Tourists certainly aren't  going anywhere, and the locals are staring at the crazy haole trudging  through the streets, completely drenched to the bone.

"You okay?" an old man shouts to me as I pass by. He's sitting on his porch, watching he world go by.

"Yeah," I shout back, over the sound of rain. "I've got to go propose to my girl."

He laughs, but I don't think he's laughing at me.

More importantly, I don't care.

I end up wading through almost a foot of water when I reach the spot  where it's flooded out. But I know I'm close, now. Even with the warmth  of the air, I'm starting to feel slightly chilled.

The lights of the hotel stand out like a beacon, making me walk a little  faster, though the exhaustion of my journey and my sleepless night are  starting to catch up with me. When I finally get inside, the rain's  slowed to a drizzle, and the front desk clerk only looks up when she  hears my shoes squeaking on the marble floor.

The elevator ride seems to take ages. I take a deep breath before I knock on the door.

Meg's fiddling with the lock almost instantly. I hear her curse as she  struggles with the sticky deadbolt, and then the door yanks open.

"Where the hell - oh my God, Ryn … " Her eyes go wide as she stares at me, stifling a bewildered laugh. "Are okay? Why are you … "

"Got stuck in the rain," I tell her, smiling reassuringly. "Don't worry. I'll be fine once you wring me out."

She lets a little bit of the laugh out as she hugs me tightly. "You look  like a drowned rat, babe. What the fuck was so important in the middle  of a storm?"

"Wasn't storming when I left," I tell her, stripping off my shirt. With  the AC blasting, I'm starting to shiver. "I had to get something. Can  you turn the temperature up a little?"         

     



 

"You need to get out of those clothes," she tells me, going to the thermostat. "You'll get a cold."

"You can't catch a cold from being cold." I roll my eyes while I unzip my pants. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Get in the shower," she says. "Right now. And for your information, I once caught a cold from being cold. It does happen."

"Yes ma'am." Amazingly enough, I don't argue with her, although I have  to do something first. I dig the ring out of my pocket before I toss my  pants aside. This isn't quite how I pictured it - proposing to her in my  underwear - but it'll have to do. I didn't walk back in the rain like a  God damn regency romance hero so I could wait for one minute longer  than necessary.

I grab her hand and pull her away from the dial she's still fiddling with. "Come here, Megs."

"Don't call me that." She's smiling. "Seriously, you need to get -"

Her face freezes, mid-sentence. She stares at me in complete shock, her  eyes widening, and then watering slightly. I feel a rush of triumph  first, because this girl is not exactly what you'd call a romantic. But  at the sight of me on one knee …

"Adrian," she whispers, numbly. Her face is pale beneath the hint of sunburn on her cheeks.

"Shhh," I murmur, pressing my lips to the back of her hand. "Unless the  answer's going to be no. Then you can go ahead and save me the  humiliation right now."

Her free hand flies to her mouth, and the tears start to trickle. Oh,  for God's sake. I was going to do some kind of speech, but I can't stand  to prolong this any further. Besides, my throat feels tight for some  reason. Maybe I am coming down with a cold.

"Marry me, Meg?" That's all I've got, now that it comes down to it. "I  don't mean sometime in the vague future. I mean, here. Now. Not right  now, obviously. But before we go home." I kiss the backs of her fingers.  My eyes are stinging a little and my heart feels like it's trying to  escape my ribcage. "I can't stand the thought of setting foot on the  mainland again without you as my wife."

Before I can react, she tumbles down to her knees, throwing her arms  around my neck. "Oh, my God," she whispers. "I mean, I hoped you would  but I didn't really think … "

"Is that a yes?" I ask, teasingly. But I want to hear her say it.

"Yes, Adrian. Yes. Of course. Yes." She kisses my neck. "Is that what you went out for?"

She pulls away, just enough to see my face. I nod, and pick up her left  hand. The ring slides on perfectly, and she watches, captivated.

"Where the hell do you buy an engagement ring at this hour?" she whispers, turning her hand so the diamond catches the light.

I just smile at her. "I've got my ways."

"It's beautiful," she says, a little breathlessly. "And … vintage." Her  eyes narrow slightly. "Please tell me you didn't steal this from some  sweet grandmother."

Her face is streaked with happy tears, but she's still my Meghan.

"I found a place," I tell her. "Got lucky. The cab driver's brother  owned a store. He opened up for me. Natural charisma. The money probably  helps, too."

She can see in my face that I'm hiding something, which naturally means  she won't rest until she ferrets it out. "What kind of store?"

I'm fucked. "A consignment shop." Technically not a lie. It's probably a service they offer.

The corner of her mouth twitches. "Is this the kind of consignment shop that might get its own reality series on A&E?"

I want to make a joke, but there's no point in prolonging this any further. "Maybe."

"Maybe," she echoes, grinning down at her finger. "You're a fucking  marvel, Ryn." Her eyes shine as she looks back up at me. "Was it my ass  in that bikini?"

"It's your ass every day, in everything," I tell her, fervently. "But mostly the bikini, yes."

She laughs, wrapping her arms around me again. "I knew it. You just had  that look on your face, like you were ready to fall down and worship."

"I hope you're not making fun of me. I take my devotion to your ass very seriously."