Page 94 of The Pact
Alie pours herself a cup, then leans her hip on the counter, staring at me.
“Well, what’s going on?” she asks quietly. “You’re acting weird.”
I exhale slowly because I know she won’t let it go.
“Okay,” I start.
She sets her cup on the counter and crosses her arms. “I’m listening.”
My head drops back, and I sigh. “There’s something I never told you about.”
Her brows lift. “Okay …”
“When Saint and I were in college, my last year and the year he got drafted”—I pause—“we made a pact.”
She frowns. “What kind of pact?”
I exhale. “Like aif we’re both single at thirty, we marry each otherkind of pact.”
She stares. Then blinks. “You never told me that. And you didn't mention this when we were talking about him at the Bubble Place.”
“I know.”
“I knew you guys were close, even back then, but …” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you never told me. We tell each other everything, Pres.”
“Honestly, I didn’t think it mattered.”
“And now?”
I meet her stare. “Now it does.”
Her expression sharpens. “Does this have to do with the meeting yesterday?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“And?”
I bite my lip, trying to think of the best way to say it, but then it just comes out. “He told me last night that he’s cashing in on it.”
Alie’s mouth drops open.
“He asked me to marry him.”
She just stares.
“Alie?”
“Not … hypothetically?” she finally asks.
“No.”
“And not joking?”
“No.”
“Like an actual, ‘Will you marry me?’”
“More like, ‘Marry me,’” I say, mimicking his voice.
