92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [125]
He was back at his place and feeling miserable when Megan phoned.
“Don’t ask me how I know, but Faith’s at the movies with Olivia and Grace.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, now!”
“Which movie?”
Megan told him and then with a smile in her voice, asked, “Do you have a burning desire to see Clive Owen all of a sudden?”
“I sure do! Bye, sweetheart, and thanks.”
“Good luck!”
Troy was out the door so fast he nearly ran to his car. The theater parking lot was full and he had to circle twice before he found an empty slot. He purchased his ticket; then, wanting it to look as if their meeting was accidental, he bought popcorn and a soda.
The movie had already started and the theater was so dark he couldn’t see anything beyond his own two feet. He slipped into the first available seat and scanned the backs of people’s heads, hoping to find Faith.
Although he squinted and leaned forward, nearly dumping his popcorn and his drink, he was unable to identify her. In fact, it wasn’t until the credits scrolled across the screen and the lights came up that he saw Faith.
She was with Grace and Olivia, only about four rows ahead of him. If he waited for her to notice him, it might not happen, so he approached them.
“Faith, imagine seeing you here,” he said, hoping that sounded less contrived than he suspected it did.
“Yes, imagine,” Grace said, exchanging a meaningful glance with Olivia. Or was that a smirk?
“Megan phoned Jack,” Olivia said under her breath. In other words, they knew he’d been looking for Faith.
“Hi, Troy,” Faith said, ignoring her friends. Her smile was warm. “I’m glad we ran into you.”
“Yeah, me, too…” While Grace and Olivia might enjoy embarrassing him, Faith had gone out of her way to make him feel comfortable.
By this time the theater had emptied out. One of the teenagers from the concession stand started down the center aisle with a broom and dustpan, checking the rows for stray popcorn and assorted trash.
“Maybe we should talk outside,” Troy suggested. He could hardly take his eyes off Faith. Suddenly realizing that Olivia and Grace were waiting, obviously interested in what he had to say, he added, “I’ll drive you home, Faith.”
“We were going to the Pancake Palace,” Grace said. “Would you care to join us?”
Faith looked at him then, and everything else receded. The question finally registered when Grace repeated his name. “Oh…sure,” he muttered absently.
“Great. We’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
“Sure,” he said again.
The two women left, and Troy and Faith walked slowly out of the theater.
“Did you speak to Megan?” he asked.
“On my cell.” Faith nodded. “Just briefly.”
“Did she say anything?” He hoped his daughter was sensitive enough to keep her mouth shut about his proposal.
Faith laughed. “All she said was that I should be gentle with you, whatever that means.”
Troy frowned; they were halfway across the parking lot and he could feel sweat beading his upper lip. He’d rehearsed what he wanted to say in front of the mirror at least a dozen times. Megan had insisted he have a short speech ready. Now, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember a single word.
As they reached the car, Troy licked his dry lips. “I think you know how much I love you,” he mumbled as he opened the passenger door.
“I thought perhaps you did,” she said.
Stepping back, Troy helped Faith inside and hurried to the driver’s side. With his hands against the steering wheel, he said, “I was thinking, hoping, really—”
“Hoping?”
“Yes, you know, that you and I might…might get together.”
“For dinner?”
“Not for dinner,” he snapped. “For life.”
His words were followed by a strained silence and then she asked, “Troy, are you asking me to marry you?”
“What else do you think this is about?”
“Well, there’s no need to get huffy.”
Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he exhaled loudly. “Okay, I apologize.”
“For proposing?”
“No, for blowing this.” Troy doubted he could’ve made a bigger mess of it had he tried.
“Would you like my answer?” Faith asked him.
“No.”
“No?”
“I didn’t mean, no, I don’t want your answer.