Pop Goes the Question

Chapter 2: Strike Two

A/N: Thanks for reading and commenting – I LOVE to know how you are reacting to my stories! I know some of you are having angst about a proposal in Belfast...just trust me....it'll be fine. I promise.

It's a beautiful southern California night, so Zep and I are snuggled into a lounge chair outside. I've got a book in my lap and I may or may not have an open bottle of wine and a pint of Ben and Jerry's beside me on the table. My phone rings, but I know it's too early for Jamie. I glance at the screen, "Hi Mama."

"Hi baby girl. What are you doing?"

I pause only slightly, "Reading."

She chuckles, "Annnnnddddd......."

"Petting Zep."

"Is Zep holding your wine glass for you?"

Damn her. "No, he's holding the ice cream for me."

"Oh honey. What's the matter?"

I can't help the little sob that bursts forth, "Mama, what's wrong with me? I am un-marryable?"

"First of all, Coqui, I'm not sure that's a word. And second, why would you ask such a crazy question? How much wine have you had?"

"Seriously, Mama. Do you realize that every guy I have ever been with has left me? They always find something wrong with me and move on." The tears are running in earnest now.

"I hate to point out the obvious, honey, but in some of those cases you were ready to bail and couldn't figure out how, so you just waited until they got the courage to call it off."

I can't stand it when she points out shit like that. "What about Jordan? We all thought he was the one. When he showed up to see me in Vancouver, I thought for sure he was coming to propose. Instead, he told me I was not the 'mate' he wanted." I snort as I try to catch my breath, "And now Jamie hasn't said a fucking word about marriage since his divorce was final. Not a word, Mama!" I finish on a shout and hope like hell my neighbors aren't outside.

"Dakota, calm down. Count yourself lucky that you dodged that Jordan bullet. And remember that Jamie is not Jordan. Sweetie, he thinks the sun rises and sets on you. He loves you and has every intention of marrying you. Has he given you any indication otherwise?"

"Well the fact that HE HASN'T ASKED is a pretty damn good indication, Mama!"

She sighs. "Baby, do you remember your pony?"

"Cricket? Yes. What does she have to do with this?"

"Remember when Daddy took you to the barn the night she was born? Remember how upset you got because you wanted to ride her right then. Daddy explained to you that she had to get bigger and stronger before she could hold you, remember?"

"What's your point, Mama?"

"Sometimes you get ready for things quicker than they are ready for you. Sometimes you have to be patient."

"Mama, I love you, but fuck that. I have been the princess of patience and you know it. Do you think he changed his mind? And wouldn't he have the balls to tell me if he did?"

"Sweetheart, you are getting yourself all worked up for nothing. If I though he was playing you, I'd have pulled out my ass kicking boots a long time ago. Have you talked to him today?"

I wipe my face on my sleeve and take a chug of my wine. Ladylike sips are for sissies. "Not yet. I probably won't hear from him for another hour or so."

"I suggest you get yourself up, put the wine and the ice cream away, take a shower and clear your head. You'll feel better after you talk to him. Give the boy a chance. He's had a tough row to hoe and he's shown nothing but devotion to you. If he's waiting, he has a reason. Do you trust him? Do you trust the relationship?"