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Ashley didn’t like surprises – anyone with half a brain could see that. They made her jumpy, or jumpier than usual anyway, and all you had to do was say ‘Hey,’ in just the right way, and there’d be this moment where her eyes got big and round with worry and her lips would press together hard, and…well, suffice it to say she wasn’t the sort of person who enjoyed having stuff sprung on her.
Which was why Chris had gone to such lengths to telegraph exactly what was going to happen tonight. Repeatedly. And as unsubtly as possible.
“I mean, think about it! Blackwood’s a long trip, sure, but it’s sort of the primo spot for partying it up. And you know it’s the kind of place where you want to take a million pictures. If there’s, y’know, something worth taking a million pictures going on at the time,” he’d said when Josh’s invite had come through, doing his best to suggest through facial expression alone that there probably would be.
And when they’d stood in front of the closet, picking through hangers and dragging the suitcases out, he’d not-so-casually suggested that it was a New Year’s Eve party, and New Year’s Eve parties usually called for swankier dress than normal even if it was just a bunch of friends hanging out together, so it maybe made sense that they pack something dressy for the big night. Just, you know, in case.
He didn’t think he’d ever used the words ‘big’ and ‘special’ and ‘important’ more than he had in the week leading up to the party, and even then, that was blown out of the water by the way the rest of the gang leaned into it once they all made it to the lodge.
For God’s sake, Josh had winked – actually winked! – when he’d pointed out the room they’d have for the weekend, repeatedly referring to it as ‘The Honeymoon Suite,’ and if that wasn’t coming right out and saying it, then he just didn’t know what was.
No, Ashley did not like surprises, so this? The proposal? It was not going to be a surprise. Chris had made real sure of that.
…or so he thought.
“Are we taking bets on who falls asleep on the couch first?” Ashley asked, half-frowning into the vanity mirror as she struggled to get an earring in. “Because I’m pretty sure Mike’s been drinking champagne since breakfast, sooo…he’d be my bet.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m not touching that bet. It’s always Mike who passes out first, guy’s a lightweight. I mean…” Chris allowed himself a joking chuckle that dissolved into a (mostly pretend) grunt of effort as he heaved his suitcase up onto the bed, unzipping the pocket where he’d stashed the ring in its plush little box. “Not that anyone’s going to be falling asleep during tonight’s party.”
“Oh no?” She threw him a sly sidelong glance through the mirror, the curve of her smirk telling him in no uncertain terms that she knew, and she knew that he knew she knew, and that this thin veneer of obliviousness was just as exciting for her as a real surprise might’ve been for someone else.
Which was probably good, all considering.
“Nope, not tonight,” Chris said. “Big night, after all. Lots – ” Oh no. Oh no. “ – going…on,” he finished lamely, struggling to keep his smile believable as he reached deeper and deeper into the pocket, and there was still no ring to be found.
Wrong pocket. Had to be.
“Should I…change the bet, then?” she joked as she finally got her earrings fastened, turning instead to finger-combing her hair. “Um…okay, who do you think starts the first totally pointless argument? About, like, the definition of pigs in a blanket or something?”
“Ah, someone remembers the great cheese debacle of 2021, it seems.” Chris made a point to position himself so his back was to the mirror so Ashley couldn’t see his panic as he tore through pocket after pocket of the suitcase. This wasn’t possible – it was not possible. The ring was…nowhere. “I still think Jess raised some good points.”
“Like what?”
“Orange.”
“Just because something is orange doesn’t make it cheese, Chris.”
“Uh huh, but if you hand me a cube of something orange, the fact remains I’m going to go ahead and assume it’s cheese, Ash. Therefore, good point. Besides, you know as well as I do – ” He started going through the main section of the suitcase, then, overturning each piece of clothing, folded or not, “ – Sam muddied the cheese waters by bringing up things like rice milk and oat milk, and whatever pea protein is.”
Ashley laughed again, and if she had any idea of the panic threatening to start him flailing like a Muppet in a windstorm she didn’t let it show. “Oookay. Well, at the risk of opening up that debate again…”
“Velveeta is perfectly acceptable as cheese. So is American. Cheddar! What do they all have in common? I ask you.” Already knowing what he was going to find, Chris went back to the first pocket, trying to feel around for any holes in the lining with his fingers. “Answer? Orange. Still totally Team Jess on this.”
“Maybe I’m just bad at picking bets.” The lodge’s floors were old enough that the boards creaked as she walked over from the vanity, taking all the surprise out of the arms wrapping around him from behind, not to mention the chin resting on his shoulder. Had he thought there was any shot he’d find the ring hiding there, Chris might’ve playfully nudged her away, but…
But who was he kidding?
He wasn’t going to find that ring.
In fact, the more he thought on it…the more he sort of remembered…not…packing it. At all.
The suitcase’s zipper bit lightly into his palms as he braced himself against it, heaving a sigh. Oh, Ashley was in for a surprise tonight after all, it seemed. “Do you think it’s cliché to propose to someone on New Year’s?” he asked, only barely covering his tracks as he added, “Or like, y’know, a holiday in general?”
Behind him, Ashley went still, and had he not known her as well as he did, he might’ve thought that sudden stiffness meant shock. It didn’t, though. No sir, no ma’am, the way she tensed up like that really only meant one thing: Thinkin’ Mode had been engaged.
At least something was getting engaged tonight.
“Oh, totally,” she said, peering over his shoulder with a puzzled expression, her eyes moving over all his rumpled clothes. “I mean, that’s when everyone expects it the most, right? Holidays, vacations, um…other people’s wedding receptions. Those are sort of the textbook proposal cliches, aren’t they?” Then she lifted her head from his shoulder, quickly adding herself, “But just because something’s a cliché doesn’t mean it isn’t good! I mean, um, things get to be cliches for a reason, and that reason is that, well, people like them, so…”
Chris drummed his fingers against the suitcase, giving in and turning to meet her gaze. “So you’re saying I should definitely, definitely pay Emily off to make sure she throws you the bouquet in a couple months, huh? That what I’m hearing?”
She snorted a quiet laugh, her earrings jingling as she shook her head. “Okay, I’d like to amend my earlier statement: It would be a cliché to propose at anyone other than Emily’s wedding reception. That isn’t a cliché, that’s a death wish.” Ashley kissed his cheek and squeezed him tighter. “But just FYI? You know I’ll say yes whenever you ask me, Chris. Cliché or not.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he joked, leaning into her kiss.
A knock at the door had them both turning, but Josh didn’t need anything as paltry as ‘permission’ or ‘acknowledgement’ to let himself in; since it was his family’s place, that probably made sense. “Much as I hate to ruin this precious moment,” he grinned, showing nearly all of his teeth when Ashley stuck her tongue out at him, “Sammy and Matt sent me to grab you, Nancy Drew. Something about you having the – ”
“Oh shoot!” She sprang up from behind him, dashing to the nightstand and grabbing her phone, her movements made awkward by the unfamiliar shape of the dress she was wearing. “I told them I’d send the recipe…crap! I…okay, I’m just gonna go…help. That way they don’t have to smudge their phones.” Ashley paused long enough to tip her head back and meet Chris in a kiss before hurrying out of the room – she very pointedly turned away from Josh as he puckered his lips and bent towards her in the doorway.
“I won’t take that to heart!” he called after her, waiting until she disappeared around the bend and ostensibly started down the stairs to turn to Chris. “Judging by the look on your face, Cochise, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say someone chickened out.”
“Chickened o – you know, I don’t appreciate your tone.” With his hopes already squashed that his disappointment wasn’t written clear as day across his face, Chris shot Josh a haughty look, praying he could do what he always did and cover his embarrassment with a bad joke or two. “For your information, sir…I’ve just been informed that it’s cliché as hell to propose on a holiday. Now, that sort of theatrical behavior might stand for you, and it might appeal to you, but for more exacting individuals such as Ashley and myself, it – ”
Josh listened to him silently for a beat, his eyes doing that thing where they scanned his face for any sign of weakness. When he found it, he didn’t wait. “You forgot the ring back home.”
“I forgot the ring back home,” he admitted immediately, hanging his head over his ravaged suitcase. “But…but…it’s fine. I’ll just. Y’know. Wait until Valentine’s Day.”
“Oh, that’ll definitely be less of a cliché than New Year’s Eve,” Josh nodded. “Good idea. Stellar, really.” Then, proving once and for all he was nothing if not a schemer, he pulled something out of his pocket and lobbed it Chris’s way. “Doubled back when you guys were loading up the car,” he explained. “I don’t know about cliches, Cochise, but I do know you’re predictable, so…”
It took him a second to realize what he was holding even as he looked down at it, but when it finally clicked in his head, Chris had no choice but to hustle over to the door, pulling Josh into a bone-crushing hug. “You’re a lifesaver, man!” he said, stuffing the ring and its box safely into his own jacket pocket. “A life. Saver!”
“You say that now,” Josh smirked. “But this is allllll going in my best man’s speech, just you wait. Now go on, break a leg. Between you and me? We’ve all got a bet going on down there, and if you don’t chicken out, I’m taking those fools to the cleaners, so you better get that kneeling knee ready.”