13. Rory
Rory
Does Nate have a fishbone stuck in his throat or something?
I stare at him, trying to figure out why he’s being so weird.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows—that’s three times now, even though he hasn’t taken a bite—and his mouth keeps opening, like he’s trying to say something, but no sound is coming out.
“Are you okay?” I finally ask. “You look…weird.”
He snaps his mouth shut. “I look weird?”
Oh crap, was that too direct? I’m not trying to offend him. He looks hot, obviously. He always looks hot.
Especially when he grows his beard in the winter. Not too long, but even the stubble does something for me.
But aside from how attractive he is, it seems like there’s something on his mind. That’s all.
I do my best to backtrack. “Not weird. Just…are you okay? Your…expression.”
“Oh.” He reaches over for his glass of water and takes a large sip before he sets it back down. “I was just thinking about you.”
I wait, wondering if there’s more.
He swallows again, opens his mouth, then closes it again and swallows.
Seriously. Is he having a stroke?
“Nate?” I reach across the table to touch his hand, and that seems to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in.
“Do you want to marry me?” he blurts.
I blink.
He blinks back.
He can’t be serious. I study his face, trying to find those little tells that he has. Something to tell me if this is just a joke or if he’s really doing this.
We stare at one another, the awkwardness and silence thick between us.
His words replay in my head as I try to make sense of them. Of course I want to marry Nate. We’ve talked about it, even. I don’t really understand why he’s bringing it up again.
Unless he’s changed his mind. He’s allowed to do that, after all. I can’t assume that he still wants to hitch his horse to mine for all of eternity, or at least until death do us part. I come with a lot of baggage. It would be smart for him to think this through.
I settle on what I’m hoping is a diplomatic response. “Sure. I mean, someday. Why? Do you?”
He opens his mouth, closes it again, and then repeats the motions.
Maybe I was closer with the fishbone thing.
But then he smiles. A full-on grin that lights up his face, completely at odds with the confusion on my side of the table.
“Yeah, Rory.” His voice is soft and deep. He reaches across the table to take my hand, his fingers curling around my palm as his thumb slides over my knuckles. “I want to marry you. That’s why I asked. What do you think?”
Wait a second. Hold the phone. Hold the fucking phone.
I pull my hand out of his grasp and slam my palm on the table, rattling the plates and startling the diners next to us. “Nate Patterson, was that a fucking proposal?”
His smile dims. “Kind of?”
“Are you fuck—” I bite my tongue as the waiter nears our table, probably wondering if this sweet man needs help with the crazy woman across from him.
“How is everything tasting?” he asks, motioning to the platters of food. A plastic rectangle with the name MARCUS is clipped to his black polo shirt. He can’t be older than seventeen. “Anything else I can get for you tonight?”
“We’re all set.” I force a smile.
See? Nothing to see here.
Marcus’s gaze bounces from me to Nate and back. He’s clearly wondering what the table-slamming was about, but I just offer a bright smile, and Nate follows my lead.
After another uncomfortable few seconds, Marcus offers us a gesture that’s somewhere between a nod and a bow and wanders off to interrupt someone else’s conversation. Poor kid.
I turn back to Nate. “I love you. You know that, right?”
“Yes?” He looks so uncertain that his brows knit together.
I reach for him this time. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, because I love you more than anything, and I absolutely want to marry you. But I want to do things right. Haven’t you seen Gilmore Girls?”
“Is that the one where the medical student sleeps with her supervising doctor?” Nate’s forehead creases.
“That’s Grey’s Anatomy.” Or any number of medical dramas, come to think of it. “Gilmore Girls is the one about the small town where they talk really fast.”
He brightens as recognition hits him. “Oh yeah, the one with Melissa McCarthy! My mom was obsessed with that show. Probably still is.”
We all are. Who doesn’t love Sookie St. James? Really, the entire cast is iconic.
But the point I’m trying to make isn’t about how amazing the show is, even though it’s one of my favorites. It’s about a specific moment.
“Do you remember when Max proposed to Lorelai?”
“Was that the diner guy?”
“No, that was Luke. He was the one she was supposed to be with. Obviously. Max was Rory’s teacher. Lorelai dated him in like season two. Or maybe the first season. I can’t remember, but that part isn’t important.”
Nate nods slowly. “Okay. Right.”
I’m not sure he remembers all the details of the show or if he’s even seen the full series. Really, I was hoping that equating our situation to Max and Lorelai’s would make things easier for him to understand. Maybe it will.
“Anyway, Max asks Lorelai to marry him while they’re fighting. Like on impulse. And she says a proposal should be special, with a hundred yellow daisies.”
Or was it a thousand? I should rewatch that season. The whole series, really. When Mom first convinced me to watch her favorite show, I mocked it endlessly, but somehow, it grew on me.
I haven’t been back to Stars Hollow since she passed.
“Ah.” Nate finally lifts his fork and takes a bite. “Got it. Anyway, did you see the texts in the chat before you left the group?”
The abrupt change in topics throws me for a second. Are we done talking about Nate’s not-really-a-proposal?
I lift my water glass to my lips and take a sip. “Mmm-hmm.”
I do want to marry Nate, more than anything. But if we do things right, this will be my one and only proposal story. The one I tell my kids someday.
And I don’t need some over-the-top presentation, the kind you see in movies where he makes some grand gesture. I just want it to be real, not blurted out like a side thought.
I shove a large bite of trout into my mouth and chew slowly while I debate how to navigate this.
Do I ask if we can go back to the previous topic? Do I just move on?
You’d think being best friends with Allie would have prepared me better for impulsive questions and abrupt changes in conversation topics. The woman was finally diagnosed with ADHD in college, and it explains a lot.
But even that experience hasn’t prepared me for this moment, because the swings in the conversation aren’t driven by a brain moving faster than normal. It feels intentional, but I haven’t quite figured out what that intention is.
When I finally swallow, the fish seems to stick in my throat. I take a sip of water to help it down and decide to just go wherever this line of conversation is taking us.
“I read some of the texts,” I finally say. “Why?”
“I’m trying to sort out my talent for the pageant. Dylan seems to be kind of against doing the narration thing.”
“Do you have another idea?” I’m still having trouble focusing as I try to move on from whatever that whole marriage talk was.
“Lawton suggested photography.” Nate cuts a bite of his ribeye, lifts it to his mouth, and chews. He follows it with a sip of water. “I’m kind of partial to that one since it doesn’t involve actually performing anything live. Being able to prepare something beforehand seems especially appealing.”
It’s a good idea. A great one, actually. Nate has been taking pictures since we were in high school. Some of his prints are on the wall at home, and they’re really good.
“I skimmed through a lot of the text thread, but I love that idea.” I take a sip of water, swallow, and set the glass on the table between us. “Nate?”
He pauses, a piece of steak halfway to his lips. “Yeah?”
I can’t let this go. “I…I don’t want you to think…I don’t know. And I don’t want to presume. I do want to marry you. Really. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just want you to be sure. You know?”
He tilts his head. “I am sure, Rory. I’ve been sure that you’re the one for me since before you came up for our high school reunion.”
“You’ve said that. I just…” I move my hand in the air, not entirely sure what I’m trying to convey. “You know?”
Amazingly, he nods. “I know, Ror. It’s the vibes. You don’t want a proposal that seems like it was done on impulse.”
I sigh in relief. He gets it. I’m not sure how from my vague hand gestures, but he did.
“Exactly.” I take a breath, hold it for a few seconds, then let it out. “Thank you for understanding.”
Nate reaches across the table and clasps my hand in his. “Of course, babe. We’re in this together. Always. I can’t promise that I won’t blurt out a proposal a few more times, but that’s just because I can’t wait to start the rest of my life with you. You just give me an answer when you’re ready.”
Warmth fills my chest, overflowing into a broad grin. “That’s kind of sweet. Really sweet. Maybe I should just say yes before you change your mind.”
He squeezes my hand. “Not going to change my mind. Not today, not ever.”
“Are you sure?” I ask for the third time as Nate pulls the SUV into the underground parking space.
“Of course I’m sure. What good is owning a fancy condo if we don’t get to use it every now and then?
” He shifts into park and turns to face me, the fluorescent lighting outlining his profile.
“Plus, I checked with Mandy to make sure you could take tomorrow off. Allie is watching the dogs. No responsibilities waiting for us. It’s just you and me, babe. ”
I’m surprised Allie was willing to take on my little terrorist of a dog. She acts like she barely tolerates Spam, but I think after several weeks of living with me and Nate, she’s learned to like him.
He likes her, at least. He follows at her heels whenever the two of them are in the house.
“Come on.” Nate reaches over and releases the buckle of my seat belt, then presses a hard kiss to my lips. “I can’t wait to have you all to myself.”