Dillon's Proposal

by Katie Bryan on August 22nd, 2011

But the Dillon who had held her, who’d been helping her since she washed up on his beach was still the man she knew, the man she’d fallen in love with all those years ago…

Dillon was acting kinda strange today, she thought, sort of nervous as he stood there fidgeting with his tie, asking her if she’d like to go have dinner.
“Of course I’d like to go have dinner,” she told him smiling. “It’s not like you have to ask. What’s up?”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “Nothing, I just wanted to make sure.”
This was all too weird. “Okay. Where to?”
“I was sort of thinking, maybe we could go to Delmonico’s.”
Delmonico’s was a five star ritzy establishment where the waiters carried linen over their arm, and the wine list was the length of a football field. “What’s the occasion?”
“I just thought you deserved something nicer than a pizza joint.”
She leaned over and kissed him, not quite sure what to make of this, but happy all the same. “Give me five minutes.”
She was ready in ten, and by the time they left she could have sworn Dillon was coming down with something. His hands were clammy, his face pale, and he could barely concentrate on keeping the car on the road.
By the time they pulled up in front of the restaurant, she was nearly as pale as him. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a little out of it.”
“No, no. I’m fine. Just fine.”
Another thought struck her and she asked, “What about reservations? This place books up months in advance. We can’t just go walking in--”
“It’s all taken care of.”
He came around to her side of the car, helped her out, and ushered her inside. A riot of color and fragrance smacked her senses. Flowers were everywhere. On every table, in huge urns on the floor, wrapped around banisters, pretty much covering every surface she saw.
Candles glowed softly under glass. Music played discreetly in the background. And an ice sculpture of a turreted castle sat in the middle of a champagne moat, next to a large photo of her and Dillon.
The more she looked around the more she realized this wasn’t some spur of the moment dinner date.
She’d been set up.
Walking further into the room, she noticed that the dinner patrons weren’t strangers. Every face looked familiar. She was surrounded by family and friends, and growing more curious by the second, she turned toward Dillon.
Smiling, and looking less pale, he led her to a chair and as he sat her down, whispered, “If the measure of joy is thee, Milady, I am riches beyond realm.” Then he got down on one knee, reached over, grasped a crystal slipper off the table, and looked her right in the eye. “You’re my life, Sara. Will you marry me?” He handed her the slipper and inside, sitting on a bed of rose petals was a diamond solitaire nestled against a Royal Claddagh ring...

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