The Accidental Proposal Read online

  ‘Edward,’ she says, ignoring Dan as usual as she walks over to where we’re sitting. Wendy’s not Dan’s biggest fan, although that’s due to his rather ungentlemanly attitude towards the women he dates rather than the quality of his television work. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘A bottle of cham—’

  ‘Your finest champagne, please,’ interrupts Dan, before jabbing a thumb in my direction. ‘Edward’s buying.’

  Wendy raises both eyebrows. ‘I’ll just dust one off,’ she says, reaching into the fridge behind her and producing a bottle of Moët, then heading off to retrieve a couple of flutes from the shelf at the other end of the bar. ‘What are you celebrating? Dan finally reaching puberty?’

  ‘No, Wendy,’ sighs Dan, sliding his empty beer bottle along the bar towards her like a cowboy in a saloon. ‘We just thought it’d make a nice change from this piss-flavoured stuff you sell branded as lager.’

  ‘Yes, well, there’s a reason yours tastes like that,’ says Wendy, flicking her eyes towards the ladies.

  ‘I’ve just got engaged,’ I say quickly, trying to defuse the situation.

  ‘To Sam,’ adds Dan, a little unnecessarily.

  Wendy rolls her eyes at him, then breaks into a grin. ‘Congratulations, Edward,’ she says, leaning over the bar to give me a hug. ‘That’s a surprise.’

  ‘Not as much of a surprise as it was for Edward,’ whispers Dan.

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘Nothing, Wendy,’ I say, a little embarrassed. ‘And thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she says, peeling the foil off the top of the champagne bottle. ‘So have you set a date?’

  ‘No. Well, not yet. I mean, it all happened so quickly.’

  ‘Funny,’ says Wendy. ‘That’s exactly what my flatmate said after she slept with Dan.’

  ‘Ha, ha, ha,’ says Dan, eyeing her warily. ‘Not.’

  I kick him lightly on the shin. ‘Join us for a glass?’

  ‘I can’t,’ she says, looking at the bottle longingly as she levers the cork out with her thumbs. ‘I’m breast feeding.’

  ‘Really?’ Dan stares pointedly at Wendy’s less-than-bountiful cleavage, and for a moment I’m worried he’s going to let slip that he refers to her as ‘the pirate’ on account of her sunken chest. ‘The poor little mite must be starving.’

  As he swivels back round to face me, chuckling to himself, Wendy smiles sweetly, then fires the champagne cork expertly at the side of his head, causing him to yelp in pain. ‘Well, congratulations again, Edward,’ she says, filling up the two glasses. ‘To both of you. That’s you and Sam, I mean,’ she adds for Dan’s benefit, before heading back to the other end of the bar.

  ‘You might have told me to duck,’ he says, scowling at her, while rubbing the spot where the cork’s hit him.

  ‘You’re right. I might have – if I didn’t think you deserved it.’

  ‘So come on,’ he says, picking his glass up, clinking it against mine, then downing the contents in one go. ‘How did she ask you?’

  I stare at Dan for a moment, then decide I’ve got nothing to lose by telling him. ‘Well, it was yesterday evening, and we’d had a nice day at the wedding, not to mention a few drinks, and we were in bed discussing it, and . . .’

  ‘You were in bed with Sam and talking?’

  I ignore his wide-eyed interruption. ‘And – I don’t know – maybe we were caught up in the moment, but all of a sudden, she asked me if I wanted to get married, and before I knew it, I’d said yes. End of story.’

  As I take a mouthful of champagne, the colour suddenly drains from Dan’s face. ‘Hang on,’ he says, ‘what were her exact words?’

  ‘I can’t really remember. “Do you want to get married?” or something like that. You know what my memory’s like when I’ve had a few.’

  Dan folds his arms. ‘So, let me get this straight. You were both a bit drunk, and at some random point in the evening, she said, “Do you want to get married?” and you took it as a proposal, rather than a question?’

  ‘Well, obviously, yes,’ I say, struggling to work out what the difference is.

  ‘She didn’t get down on one knee, or say, “Will you marry me?” like most people do. And like you tried to have me believe you did earlier?’

  ‘Well, no, but . . .’

  ‘And you didn’t think that she might have been asking generally?’

  I get a sudden uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. ‘Generally?’

  ‘Yup. Like . . .’ Dan’s face scrunches up in concentration as he tries to come up with an example. ‘If you were talking about America, say, and she’d said to you, “Do you want to visit America?” Well, the obvious answer is, “Yes, one day.” Unless you’re actually standing in the travel agent’s, you can’t possibly think she’s suggesting the two of you go together there and then.’

  ‘That’s rubbish.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. She was clearly asking me.’

  ‘Doesn’t sound that clear to me.’ Dan snorts.

  ‘Yes, well, you weren’t there, were you?’ I say, putting my glass down angrily. ‘And besides, the only way to make anything clear to you is to spell it out. With very short words. And in very big letters.’

  Dan holds his hands up. ‘Okay, okay. Keep what’s left of your hair on. I just want to make sure you didn’t get hold of the wrong end of the stick. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time.’

  ‘This wasn’t like that, thank you very much,’ I say, glaring at him. Dan is referring to an incident last year, where Sam and I were on holiday in Majorca, and we’d had an argument, and she’d asked me to leave. Turned out she’d been referring to the room, whereas I thought she’d meant the island, and we almost split up because of it.

  ‘You’re sure it wasn’t?’

  ‘Yes I’m sure.’ I take a mouthful of champagne. ‘Unlike you, I learn from my mistakes.’

  ‘There are no mistakes,’ says Dan, putting on a bad American accent. ‘Only experiences.’

  I stare up at the ceiling. ‘In that case, it’s certainly been an experience telling you about it.’

  He grins, then helps himself to a refill. ‘So, where were we? Oh yes. She’d said, “Do you want to get married?’ And you said?’

  I think carefully. ‘Well, yes.’

  ‘And you’re sure she wasn’t talking hypothetically?’

  ‘Of course.

  ‘How?’

  It’s a good question, and I stifle a burp as I think about it. ‘By her reaction, for one thing. When I said yes, I mean.’

  ‘She wasn’t sick, then? Didn’t faint, or show you that she had her fingers crossed all the time and didn’t mean it?’

  ‘Very funny, Dan. No – she . . . she just said, “Good”, then gave me a kiss and went to sleep.’

  ‘Was that all?’

  ‘What do you mean, was that all? Like I said, we’d had a bit to drink, it was late, and she was obviously tired. We both were.’

  ‘Yeah, right.’ He makes a face as he refills his glass. ‘That’s exactly how I’d react if I’d proposed to someone and they’d said yes. By falling asleep. Unless . . .’

  ‘Unless what?’

  ‘Unless she realized she’d made a mistake – or rather, you had – and was just pretending to be asleep while she worked out what to do next. Lord knows, it probably wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s had to pretend in bed with you.’

  ‘Dan, for the last time, it wasn’t a mistake. On either of our parts.’

  He shrugs, then holds the bottle of Moët out towards me. ‘Well, as long as you’re positive?’

  ‘I am,’ I say, nodding at Dan’s offer of a top-up, while trying to ignore the feeling of doubt that’s starting to creep over me.

  ‘Fine.’ Dan pours some champagne into my glass, then puts the bottle down. ‘And you don’t feel . . . No. Never mind.’

  ‘Never mind what?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He picks his glass up, the
n holds it up to the light and peers intently into it, as if fascinated by the bubbles. ‘Forget about it.’

  ‘No, come on. You were going to ask me if I felt something.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Dan glances at me out of the corner of his eye. ‘Emasculated. Seeing as she’s the one who did the proposing.’

  ‘No I don’t,’ I say, although the correct answer is probably, Well, I didn’t.

  ‘Because it’s the man’s responsibility, isn’t it?’ he continues. ‘You know, you’re making this huge gesture to her, giving her the biggest thing you can, and she’s taken that opportunity away from you. Although if it were me, she’d already have had the biggest thing I . . .’

  ‘Dan, please.’ I shake my head at him. ‘Besides, it’s the noughties.’

  He sniggers, like he does every time I mention that word, since I made the mistake of telling him it was how Jane and I used to refer to sex.

  ‘So?’

  ‘So women have equal status now.’

  ‘Huh. To you, maybe,’ snorts Dan.

  ‘Piss off,’ I say, although I’m a little impressed that Dan’s managed to be chauvinistic and insult me at the same time. ‘Besides, it’s better, isn’t it?’

  He frowns. ‘How’d you work that one out?’

  ‘Because it is against the norm. So if Sam did propose . . .’

  Dan smirks into his glass. ‘If being the operative word.’

  ‘If Sam did propose, then it means she’s had to make a special effort. Which means she must think I’m pretty special. And doesn’t want to lose me.’

  He mimes sticking his fingers down his throat, then looks at me earnestly. ‘You’d better check, though.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  Dan puts his glass down. ‘Think about it. The relationship’s fine, right? You’re getting along just great as you are, no reason to change the status quo, and suddenly, one of you accidentally proposes to the other one.’

  ‘No one proposes accidentally, Dan.’

  ‘Just hear me out. Say she did. Say the words just . . . slipped out. And before she can go, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t what I meant,” you’ve already said yes. She sees how excited you are by it. How flattered. So how on earth does she get back from there without doing some serious damage?’

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ I say, although not quite as confidently as before.

  ‘No it isn’t,’ insists Dan. ‘You can’t retract that sort of thing, because if you do, then you don’t just revert to before, where getting married was, although unspoken, on the cards, but instead, you’re actually saying you don’t want to marry the other person. Cue all sorts of other issues, and you’re splitting up a few weeks later. Hence the reason she probably kept quiet.’

  ‘Thanks a lot.’

  Dan makes a face. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger. I’ve been very careful not to propose to anyone over the last few years, so I know what I’m talking about.’

  I put my glass down on the bar and turn to face him. ‘So you’re saying that Sam proposed to me by accident, and then immediately realized that she couldn’t back out of it?’

  Dan nods. ‘Yup.’

  ‘But why would she want me to think we’re engaged if we’re not?’

  ‘Maybe so she can draw the engagement out, until something else gives her an excuse to get out of it. Has she mentioned it again today?’

  ‘Well, no, but . . .’

  ‘There you go, then.’

  ‘If you let me finish, I was going to say that I haven’t really seen her. She’s been out with Madeleine all day.’

  Dan looks up sharply. ‘Who?’

  ‘Madeleine? Sam’s best friend?’

  ‘And why have I never met her?’

  I sigh. ‘Why do you think?’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Dan grins, and picks the bottle up again. ‘But you’ve got to agree that sounds pretty suspicious.’

  ‘What’s suspicious about it?’

  ‘Well, for one thing, if I’d just got engaged, I wouldn’t be out celebrating with you.’

  ‘Thanks very much,’ I say, fighting the urge to snatch the champagne back from him.

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  I stare at him for a few seconds, hoping he’s misread the situation, but unfortunately, if Dan ever got asked to do Celebrity Mastermind, ‘women’ would be his specialist subject. ‘So how can I check?’ I say eventually, trying to keep the panic out of my voice.

  ‘Well, the most obvious thing would be to call her bluff.’

  ‘And how do I do that?’

  Dan leans over and punches me on the shoulder, which I guess is meant to be reassuring, but only ends up giving me a dead arm. ‘S’easy. Get her to the front of a church, have a vicar ask her if she wants to go through with it. If she says “I do” then you’re home and dry.’

  ‘As opposed to high and dry. In front of everybody. And that’s assuming she turns up.’

  ‘Well, you can’t just come out and ask her, can you?’

  ‘Why not? What’s wrong with saying, “Sam, you know yesterday, when you proposed to me, were you being serious?”’

  Dan looks at me as if I’m stupid. ‘Because what’s she going to do? Say “actually, no”, and hope the two of you can just laugh it off? Besides, if you want a direct answer from a woman then you can never ask her a direct question. It’s the way their minds are wired.’

  ‘Dan, will you please stop generalizing. Especially where women are concerned.’

  ‘But it’s true.’

  ‘No it isn’t. That’s like saying that everyone who’s Japanese knows karate.’

  ‘Okay, okay.’ He leans in to me, then lowers his voice. ‘Although that, funnily enough, is true. I mean, there’s no proof, but it’s a fact.’

  ‘Whatever. But I can hardly wait until I’ve got Sam at the front of the church to find out whether she was actually proposing to me, can I?’

  Dan turns and peers towards the other end of the bar, where Wendy is making herself a double espresso, stifling a yawn as she does so. ‘Believe it or not, flatso over there has actually hit on the perfect solution.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s simple,’ he says. ‘If you can get Sam to set a date, and it’s some time this century, then that’ll prove she’s serious. I mean, that’s the whole point of being engaged, isn’t it? So you can get married.’

  As Dan sips his champagne smugly, I have to concede that it’s not such a bad plan, and not only because – thanks to him – I’m now a little worried that I have misread the situation, but also because of my existing insecurities where Sam and I are concerned. Maybe it’s the legacy of being dumped so dramatically by Jane a couple of years ago, but there’s a part of me that’s mystified – almost on a daily basis – that someone like Sam wants to go out with someone like me, so if I do get her to set a date, then perhaps that feeling will stop too. But at the same time, I realize that there’s another reason why I should push for it. Because I love her. And if it is true, and she did actually propose, then I can’t wait to be married to her.

  I glance at my watch, wondering whether I should go home and do it now, but it’s late, and Sam will probably be getting ready for bed. I’ll just have to wait until the morning. Which means that for tonight at least, I might as well enjoy being engaged.

  I drain my glass in a couple of gulps, then pick up the bottle of Moët and help myself to a refill. ‘You know, you’re cleverer than you look.’

  ‘I am, aren’t I?’ says Dan, holding his glass out for a toast, without realizing what he’s just said. ‘Here’s to the big day. Hopefully.’

  ‘To the big day,’ I say, and then suddenly, something else occurs to me. ‘Actually, Dan, strike that. When I say you’re cleverer than you look . . .’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘No – I mean, you’re a genius!’

  ‘I am?’

  ‘Yes; the big day. I might have missed out on the chance to make a grand gesture by proposing
to her first . . .’

  ‘Assuming that she did, of course, actually propose to you.’

  ‘. . .but at least I can make it up to her. By giving her what every woman wants.’

  Dan frowns. ‘Me?’

  ‘No. A great big wedding!’

  Dan breaks into a broad smile, then clinks his glass loudly against mine. ‘Now that, Edward, sounds like a plan.’

  Monday, 6 April

  6.51 a.m.

  I’m woken up by the sound of the bedroom door shutting – Sam getting ready to put another victim – sorry, client – through their paces, probably. She works as a personal trainer, mainly using the seven-mile (and I only know the distance because she’s made me run the length of it enough times) stretch of Brighton and Hove seafront to train her clients. Most weekdays, she’ll be up and out before I’ve even stirred and, despite the fact that we’ve been living together for the best part of a year, I still haven’t quite managed to get used to her crack-of-dawn starts, or the fact that whenever she tells me she fancies an early night, that’s exactly what she means.

  I’m feeling a little sick, although that’s probably more down to the amount of alcohol I consumed last night – having decided to stay in the pub until I was sure Sam would be asleep – than my nervousness at asking her to set a date when I get up. And, anyway, as I’ve been telling myself all night, I shouldn’t be nervous; despite what Dan said, we are already engaged – at least, I’m pretty sure we are, having replayed the proposal over and over in my mind. So setting a date is simply the next step. Even though right now it feels like a pretty huge one.

  I mean, some people might get engaged simply to take the relationship to another level, but for me, it’s definitely the preliminary stage to getting married, and if Sam feels that way too – and I’ve no reason to think she doesn’t; after all, we’re already living together – then what’s the point of dragging it out? And while the one thing Dan’s right about is that I do now wish I’d asked her first, I’m also really flattered she asked me.