Scars (Romola 2)

57: Will You

"Wait." His grip hardened around the microphone. The cylindrical body could slip from his hand and fall to the floor at any moment.

"Wait." He repeated. "Don't go anywhere."

He watched all the eyes in the room turn to him and he stood, soaking up the attention. Inside, his stomach wound into thick knots, double the size of his fists.

"I bet this is unexpected. I didn't expect this too." His words slurred together. "Had to take some wine to boost my strength, you know like that red bull guy."

The hangover would be massive. He took a few step forwards. The room seemed to spin. Some ladies at the centrepiece stage turned away. If she left that place, he would not be able to do it. He kept his eyes on the area where he'd seen her standing.

"I didn't know that I would be here today. Or you. If I had, then I might have come better prepared."

He began, walking towards her, one step at a time. Too fast and the room would spin. Look away from her, then he would give in to the urge to run into his car and fly back to America where his family's problems were nothing more than sparse phone calls. But he wouldn't run any longer. He'd done that after Romola's betray; and he'd still come face to face with her.

"...better to face things head on like a man." He chuckled. "A responsible man."

His last footstep touched the base of the staircase and he stopped, staring at his feet. The words he was about to say, he had prepared for someone else, and maybe a bit of it stolen from Dami and Vicky's vows but what did it matter. They were already married.

"The first day I saw you, I knew there was something special and different about you. The more time I spent with you, the more I realized you were much more different that I thought but in a good way. Even though things did not quite turn out how I wished it would, I'm glad I still have this opportunity."

He walked past Victoria.

She reached out and patted his back, whispering. "Yes, Olumide. Yes."

He would've smiled if it was a different situation, a different girl and not the one he'd sworn to stay away from but there she was now, two footsteps away.

"So, I know we haven't had the best relationship but will you do me the pleasure..." He covered the distance between them and fell to his knees.

If he'd ever needed God most, now was the time. He couldn't mess this up. Not in front of these many people. These people who had crowded around them. The noise levelled up with screams and shouts.

He focused on the ear splitting screams and ignored the protests of his heart against his action. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the box, and opened it.

He'd tossed his sister's letter into the trash can where it belonged. He would not be the cause of his sister's demise.

He stared up at his would-be-fiancee's face. She stared back at him mouth-wide, eyes round and body frozen, holding the bouquet in both of her hands.

"...do me the pleasure, Yetunde. Make me the happiest man on earth. Will you--"

"Yes. Yes." She threw her hands around his neck.

He hid the ring box in his palm so she wouldn't knock it off.

"Ah ah... Wait now. He hasn't finished proposing." One of the elderly women around him said.

He didn't care. He didn't think he could say the rest of the words. And she'd already accepted. He opened the ring box, took out the ring and slid it unto her outstretched middle finger.