Perfect Proposal (4 page)

Rosie’s
mother’s whole face lit up. “Rosalinda! He’s already asked you? Why
didn’t you tell me?”

She
fended off her mother’s immediate hug. “Because we’re not engaged,
mama. He proposed after we’d only been together for a couple of
months. I wasn’t sure about a few things back then.” Like whether
he was over his dead girlfriend. “So I said no.” Something she’d
regretted shortly after, but didn’t know how to approach him about,
so she’d waited for him to ask again. And waited.

Noelle
snorted. “Big mistake.”

Mrs.
Ramos pried the plate from Rosie and shoved it in Noelle’s
direction. “Why don’t you take these out to the men, dear? And
while you’re out there, get Carlos and Emilio to bring in the extra
chairs for the dining room. With you, Sam and Rosie, we’ll need
three more.”

Once Noelle wandered out of the kitchen, Rosie’s mother
sighed. “I hope Emilio isn’t serious about that girl. I’d have a
word with him , but it would probably drive him to her even faster.
That boy always has been contrary.” She gave Rosie a concerned
look. “Now about you and your
Oso
. If you weren’t ready to say yes,
then you were right to wait to make sure he’s the right man for
you.”

“
He is the right man for me, mama.”

She
opened the fridge and removed the octopus salad to hand to Elba
before facing Rosie again. “I’m not saying this to pressure you,
but you’ve been together long enough to have some sort of
commitment. I know many people don’t feel it’s necessary to get
married these days, but what’s the harm with making it
official?”

“
It’s not that I’m against marriage, mama—”

“
He loves you, Rosalinda. This I can see with my own two eyes.
And you love him. Why not get married?”

“
Because he hasn’t asked again. I’ve tried to bring it up since
but he doesn’t seem to get the hint.” As a former FBI agent, Sam
caught onto nuances and subtleties faster than she did, but when it
came to marriage, he was like most other guys she’d met. Clueless.
“Besides, it’s just a piece of paper.”

A
calculating gleam appeared in her mother’s expression. “The timing
is perfect. We could wander through the bridal gown section at Saks
tomorrow. Get you registered for gifts.”

“
Mama, he hasn’t asked, remember? We’re not engaged
yet.”

“
Why don’t you ask him outright?” Elba suggested. “These days,
there’s nothing saying the man has to be the one to ask. Find out
where you stand before you put much more time into this
relationship.”

Rosie
slipped from the kitchen and found Sam sprawled on one end of the
couch, listening to a discussion between her brothers about the
newest Jets quarterback. Why hadn’t she asked Sam outright about
marriage before this? She’d never been one to wait for others to
decide her fate, and heaven knew subtlety usually wasn’t her
style.

The
moment he saw her, Sam shot that brilliant bright smile that had
her knees weakening. “Hey, Rosebud, come join us. Emilio here
doesn’t think your Jets or my Redskins have a shot at the Superbowl
this year.”

“
I wouldn’t put much stock in his arguments from a Giants’
fan.” She took his hand and let herself be drawn onto his lap, only
to draw back with a frown. “You’re cold. What’ve you been
doing?”

“
I went out for a little walk, that’s all. You done in the
kitchen?”

After a
moment’s consideration, she nodded. Dinner was almost ready, and
there were already too many cooks in the kitchen. They could do
without her for a few minutes more.

“
Good. I’ve missed you.” He settled her head under his chin.
“Hey, Carlos, who are you bettin’ on for next week’s
game?”

Content
to be a spectator to the discussion rather than a part of it for
once, Rosie snuggled even deeper against Sam’s chest. The
combination of the lingering scents of the shaving cream with his
subtle aftershave and the starch of his shirt wound through her
head. He’d discarded his jacket, loosened his tie and undone the
top button of his shirt. In her opinion, there was nothing as sexy
as that tiny peek at his chest, letting her imagination provide the
rest of the image. Beneath her palm, she could feel the bump of the
stellate scar, where a bullet had nearly ended his life. If she
skimmed her hand to the center, she’d feel the long scar left when
they’d cracked open his chest. She could have lost him before she’d
even met him. Her insides clenched and she squeezed her eyes shut
at that thought.

Noelle’s
question gnawed its way into her brain. If he wanted something
badly enough, Sam wasn’t the type of guy to take no for an answer.
So why hadn’t he proposed again? Questions that had assailed her
late at night, long after Sam had fallen asleep, flooded her again.
Had she insulted him by turning him down that first time? Did he
think she wouldn’t respond differently next time? Or had he
realized he didn’t want to marry her after all? Why hadn’t she said
something and asked him herself?

Elba was right. She should take the bull by the horns, or
the
Oso
by his
lapels. Just not here in front of her family.

He
nuzzled her hair and whispered, “What’s up?”

Was she
that transparent? “Nothing.”

“
You may be selling, but I ain’t buyin’ it. You sighed in that
way you do when something’s gnawing at you, so don’t shine me on
about nothin’ bein’ wrong.”

Before
Rosie could respond, her mother called from the dining room
“Carlos, Jose, Emilio, didn’t Noelle tell you to bring more chairs
in here? Dinner’s ready and there aren’t enough seats for
everyone.”

To
Rosie’s relief, the topic got lost amongst the bustle of the men
bringing in the chairs, then everyone choosing a place at the table
and helping themself to the food. During the dinner, Sam
good-naturedly bore the brunt of her brothers’ attempts to fool him
about what the various dishes contained.

At the
end of the meal, Raphael climbed out of his booster seat and
toddled over to Sam. The youngster held his hands in the air in
front of Sam. “Up.”

“
Hey there, buddy.” Rosie’s breath stuttered when Sam settled
the boy on his lap “You want to share my rice pudding?”

Her nephew nodded and reached for the spoon, spilling half the
contents of the
arozzo con dulce
over Sam’s brand new suit.

Elba
jumped to grab her son, but Sam waved her off. “Don’t worry about
it. We’re good here.” He took control of the spoon, refilled it
with more pudding and lifted it to Raphael’s lips. “There ya go,
buddy.”

Rosie’s
mother nudged her beneath the table. Once she had Rosie’s
attention, she leaned over and whispered, “Elba’s right. If he
won’t ask you, you should ask him.” With that pronouncement, her
mother stood and started gathering the dishes.

“
Mama, sit down. It’s your birthday. We’re doing the dishes
tonight.” She stared pointedly at her brothers, who groaned. “All
of us, not just Elba and I.”

Rosie
stayed quiet while she and her siblings washed the dishes and dealt
with the leftovers. Once everything had been stored away, she
wandered out to the living room and curled up beside Sam, letting
her family’s chatter flow around her once again.

While
her mother opened her presents, Sam pressed a kiss to her hair.
“You’re quiet again. Now ‘fess up, what’s going on in that head of
yours?”

“
I ate too much, that’s all.“ She pressed one hand against her
too-fully belly. It wasn’t a lie. She was going to have to add a
couple of miles to her run for the next week or three. “And I’m
tired. Someone woke me up early this morning.”

“
Why don’t you take my daughter back to the hotel for a nap?”
Rosie’s father suggested, one thick eyebrow twitching. What was
wrong with him? “She’ll need her energy if she’s to go shopping
with her mother and Elba tomorrow.”

Sam
shifted and pulled her closer. “You want to go back to the hotel,
Rosie?”

With a
faked yawn, she nodded. “Yeah, I think we should. I’ll see you in
the morning, Mama.”

Her
mother looked startled when both Rosie and Sam stood, but she
nodded. “Let me get you some leftovers in case you get hungry later
tonight.”

Despite
Rosie’s protests that she wouldn’t be hungry for a week, her mother
pressed a plastic bag containing several reusable containers into
Sam’s hands. “You take these. I also know that a big fellow like
you will be looking for a snack soon, and hotel food is too
expensive to be charging all the time. And thank you for bringing
my daughter home for my birthday.”

“
You’re welcome, Mama Ramos. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Sam bent
down and bussed a kiss across Mrs. Ramos’ cheek, shook her father’s
hand and climbed into the limo after Rosie.

Once
they were buckled in, Sam tucked his arm around Rosie and pulled
her to rest her head on his shoulder. “It’ll only take about twenty
minutes to get to the hotel, but why don’t you have a nap in the
meantime?”

Though
her eyes fluttered closed, her body stayed taut and her mind raced
over just how she should ask him to marry her. Should it come as a
suggestion? Or should she reverse the roles and get down on one
knee? Maybe she should buy a wedding ring for him tomorrow and ask
him tomorrow night. No, enough waiting.

As they
turned onto Forty Ninth Avenue, Rosie straightened. “Sam? While we
were in the kitchen, Mama asked when we were planning to get
married.”

She
didn’t have to touch him to feel his body stiffen beneath her hand.
Since the limo was going straight, he wasn’t bracing himself
against traffic. She glanced up and the
Bambi-was-about-to-be-run-over-by-a-Mac-truck look on his face was
like a knife in her chest.

S
am schooled his face, hoping to hide
his surprise, but he doubted whether he’d done it fast enough. Now
what the hell should he do? Just went to prove that old adage about
best-laid plans going awry was true.

Stall, boy.
At least get her back to
the hotel, where he could give her a perfect proposal. There was no
way in hell he was doing it in the back of a damned New York cab,
even if it was dressed up as a limo. “Can we talk about this later?
Once we’re back at the hotel. In private?”

Hurt
filled Rosie’s expression. “You don’t want to marry me, do
you?”

“
No, yes,”
Shit
. How the hell was he supposed to answer that? Frickin’ double
negatives. “I mean, yes, I want to marry you. I just don’t want to
do this here in the car.”

Rosie
leaned forward. “Driver, pull over. I’m getting out.”

Shit on
a stick. “Driver, don’t pull over. Keep goin’.”

Despite
Sam’s command, the chauffeur swerved to the curb. Rosie opened the
door before the limo had come to a complete stop. Tires squealed
and horns blew and traffic snarled around them and snow swirled
into the once warm limo.

“
Rosie, wait, let me explain.” He clambered to the other side
of the car in an effort to stop her climbing out. “Rosie, I want to
marry you.”

She
batted his hands away. “You don’t want to marry me. You just like
screwing me.”

With a
curse, he told the driver to meet them a block down and if he
hadn’t convinced her to get back into the car by then, to follow
until she did. By the time he turned to follow her, she’d marched
at least a hundred yards ahead, weaving around the pedestrians,
never stopping with her steady stream of curses in Spanish, cursing
both him, his friends, his intentions, and the layer of snow that
had accumulated during the day that sent the fancy heels she’d
decided to wear sliding over the icy pavement.

Despite
the gravity of the moment, he had to chuckle while he hurried to
catch her. Back home she rarely reverted to Spanish, but after one
day around her family, her accent was back with a
vengeance.

After
she’d launched into a long harangue about his parents’ marriage or
possible lack thereof, the invective finally slowed. Deciding she’d
worked off her head of steam so she might actually listen to him,
he closed the distance between them and touched her shoulder.
“Rosie, hang on for a minute and listen to me. Please.”