Night On Set ❁ COLIFER

Chapter 80 ❁ Four months, one proposal and a lifetime

Jen's POV

The last time I was proposed to, I was standing under the Eiffel Tower dressed in an oversized raincoat and holding a huge umbrella to stay clear of the pouring rain, which did nothing to prevent that I got soaked to my knees. The guy whose hand I was holding was as familiar as my own, ever since we met in March 2004 at Vancouver International Airport when we were both on our way to shoot the pilot episode of House. His insistence to go out that night despite of the rain wasn't the first sign that he was planning something big; his impromptu trip to Paris had been a major giveaway from the very beginning.

Eight years ago, I knew exactly what was coming. I was prepared for it, and I was ready. I'd made up my mind about the whole thing beforehand, so nothing could surprise me when it finally happened. And then it did: Jesse went down on one knee on the soaked asphalt, and I wasn't the slightest bit surprised. I said yes, because that was part of the plan. I ripped away the umbrella to kiss him in the rain, which wasn't as much part of the plan, but I did it anyway.

When I said yes that night, I did it because I thought I'd never be anyone else's fiancée ever again.

Now, eight years and nothing but a few failed dates with random guys and four of the best months of my life later, I'm escaping my neighbors' wedding with the guy who has been my hallmate for the last two years, and I couldn't be less prepared.  

Aside from being unprepared, I don't think the entire magnitude of Colin's intentions fully dawns on me until he is pulling me with him across the parking lot to where he left his car. And even then, as I jerk his hand back to make him stop, my mind is still five steps behind him.

"Colin, we can't do this."

"Yes, we do." The gravel of the parking lot crushes beneath his feet when he spins around to face me. The borderline insane smile hasn't left his face since he pitched the idea and abruptly got up from the table roughly two minutes ago. "Of course we can."

"No, we can't," I say. "You can't just show up, fill in a paper and be done. You need documents, and I don't even kn—"

"We can." His eyes are clear as water, his face as open as I've ever seen it. He's serious about this. He wants to do this.

He didn't just halfway propose to me without actually asking the question. He wants to go to city hall and get married.

Right in this very moment.

I'm not sure if it's the horrendous crab cakes or the fact that I went from dating my best friend to running off to city hall together in two minutes, but my whole stomach is clenching up. All I'm thinking about is what he said that night on the lake, about me wanting to put everything in box, and if that's the reason why I can't seem to feel my legs right now.

All things considered, I think it's safe to say we can blame everything on the proposal-that-wasn't-really-a-proposal. The crab cakes weren't nearly appalling enough to have this side effect.

I'm comparing two-day old crab cakes to a proposal. This is not the way you want to start an engagement.

I let go of his hand because mine is getting sweaty. "We can't. Colin, this isn't something people do—"

"Can we have this conversation in the car? Please?"

I snap my mouth shut and look over my shoulder to see what he's looking at. When I spot Mrs. Gail and Mr. Brown coming out of the Boathouse together, I gladly accept his proposal and hurry to his car to slip in the passenger's seat. The second he gets in beside me, I turn my full body toward him and grab his hand firmly.