Page 104 of Proposal Play
Hell, maybe last night was good for us when it comes to this facade we need to present for the world. Maybe it connected us even more. Made us look more married. Maybe if we just keep up this touching, this closeness, it’ll feel like we’ve already talked about what went down. Like last night doesn’t need explaining because it’s obvious, right? I don’t want her to say, ‘It can’t happen again,’because maybe that would make those words real.
Best if we live in this limbo lust land for a little longer. Where nothing can go wrong.
“Any reason for that? Her being your good luck charm?” Rachel asks, a tablet tucked under her arm.
I squeeze Maeve’s waist a little tighter. “She’s been my biggest fan. She’s cheered me on from behind the boards, and at the auction every year for the last two seasons. And I haven’t missed a game since. So there you go.”
“It’s all me,” Maeve says, laughing brightly, almost too brightly as she leans into me, her shoulder bumping mine.
“Can’t mess with a streak,” I add, dropping a kiss on her nose.
Maeve giggles.Actually giggles. That’s not like her at all. She’s not a giggler. But then again, I’ve never been this touchy in public with girlfriends.She’s your wife now, I remind myself.
Be that as it may, I’m not a big PDA guy. But withMaeve, I’m being extra, because that’s what the situation calls for. But also, because I want to, even though this morning was awkward, even though we haven’t talked about last night, even though I may never want to talk about it. I just want to keep doing it. So much that I feel this uncomfortable ache in my chest, this deep and terrible longing. I don’t think it’s just a bottomless desire to touch her. It’s from the way I want to keep her close. Closer than I should.
I take a beat to center myself, then focus again on Rachel and the questions. “And I was extra thrilled when she bid on me at the auction.”
Rachel arches an eyebrow. “Did you plan to get married in Vegas? Was that part of the whole ‘good luck charm’ thing?”
Ah, I hadn’t thought of it that way before. But luck and Vegas? That makes sense. I roll the dice and say, “Yes.”
Maeve runs her hand affectionately down my arm. “Definitely. We feel very lucky.”
Rachel’s brow furrows in confusion. “I’m sorry,” she says, holding up a hand to the camerawoman. “Can we stop for a moment?” The woman cuts, and Rachel glances between us. “Could I trouble you to maybe…not touch so much?”
“Sure.” I straighten immediately, feeling Maeve tense beside me.
“Oh, okay,” Maeve says, her tone light but clearly thrown off.
Rachel gives an apologetic smile. “It just looks a bit distracting on camera. Like you’re acting.”
Maeve snorts, loudly. “How ridiculous.”
“I know, right?” I jump in. “Who would do that?”
“Exactly,” Rachel agrees, glancing at the camerawoman as she resets.
Maeve shifts next to me, her smile stiff. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be distracting.”
“Honestly, this sounds cheesy, but just be yourselves,” Rachel offers, as if she’s trying to ease the awkwardness.
But what if being myself means I want to touch my wife a lot? Maybe I especially do since she hasn’t pulled the ‘that can’t happen again’ card. And maybe by making sure I protect her, that I look out for her, that we’re damn good at this charade, she won’t want to pull that card.
I hear Beckett’s voice echoing in my head:She’s trying to make her way in the world, dealing with an overbearing aunt, while you’re already a successful hockey player. If this goes south, you’ll be fine. But if this blows up, she might not be.
What if the idea to channel the Greers was wrong? Maybe I should just be myself.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know this is more than a game for the cameras. More than for charity. More than a pretend marriage sparked by a viral kindness campaign we didn’t expect. If I could just be myself, I’d let on how I felt. I’d admit that at Beckett’s wedding, that wasn’t simply a momentary lapse of reason. That it was the start of something. Something that’s been slowly, steadily, persistently building up strength inside me. Like a storm that was barely a few winds in the ocean and has now been upgraded to a category five, fueled by all these fucking feelings for my best friend.
But I can’t go there. Not now—not with Maeve’s wish to keep things simple. Then another voice asks—but aren’t they already complicated?
I try to shove that voice aside. I’m not ready for all the complications. And she sure as shit isn’t.
Rachel nods toward the couch, and we sit. “Let’s focus more on the viral kindness campaign,” she says. That’s why she’s here, after all. That’s what interestedThe Good Stuff.
“Sure,” I say, settling into the cushions.
“It’s so rare we see a true feel-good story like this. Something about doing good. We’re just so tickled at the way that’s taken off. Did you expect that kind of response?” Rachel asks.