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Story Notes:

I was staying clear of the infamous proposal interruptus, because everything I thought of was schmaltzy with a side of schmaltz. Then...it happened so fast. And yup, this is uber-romantic. But if you can't go there with a proposal, when can you?

So, here goes...

 

Close enough  

 

The first time, there were no swans. They’d been at their fifth high school reunion, a picnic held in a local park with a manmade pond where there were supposed to be swans. It was famous for its swans. Pam didn’t see a single one all afternoon.

Roy had been in his element. His former swagger returned as their (his) old buddies slapped him on the back, the returning football hero with his mousy little girlfriend, whose name they couldn’t quite recall. There had been one or two people – friends from art class – that she’d lost touch with and was hoping to see, but they hadn’t shown up; they’d moved away or simply moved on.

 

Fueled by rekindled teenage bravado and cheap beer, Roy had popped the slurred question in a rowboat, surrounded not by swans but by algae. She vividly remembers its shocking yellow-green color, like something they might have grown in a petrie dish in biology class. The irony wasn’t lost on her at the time, but it wasn’t particularly funny either. The water smelled fetid in the late June heat wave and Roy had drunkenly fumbled the ring, almost dropping it overboard. Luckily, her reflexes were less impaired and she’d caught it just in the nick of time.

 

Somehow, she convinced herself that it was a romantic moment all the same. Or at least, close enough.

 

 

 

 

 

Plenty  

 

When Pam woke up that morning, she found him wide-awake, propped on one elbow, watching her. They’d driven home from Toby’s going away party the previous night in silence, at a rare loss for words. She’d practically fallen into bed immediately after they arrived at her place, queasy from junk food and exhausted from the effort of willing herself not to be disappointed. By the time Jim had slid in behind her a little later, she’d been asleep, only vaguely aware of his arm winding around her waist, his body molding flush to hers.

‘Hey,’ she breathed blearily, rolling toward him and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

 

‘It was supposed to be last night,’ he began abruptly, as if they were already in the middle of a conversation.

 

‘I know,’ she answered quietly.

 

‘But, I…’ he trailed off, obviously still mystified by how it had turned out like it did. Like it didn’t

 

‘I know.’

 

Of course she did; she’d been there. She’d seen him turn to smile at her, vibrating with hope and nerves, and take a deep breath for courage.  She’d watched him deflate when the universe (in the form of Andy) conspired against him. 

 

‘I just couldn’t… I mean, can you imagine having that moment forever linked with fucking Andy?’

 

His familiar early morning voice was low and lush and intimate - a warm secret she never tired of hearing. But now it sounded raw, like he hadn’t slept much. Maybe at all. Pam sighed, reaching out to push the crazy tangle of bed-head hair off his forehead. He caught her arm before she withdrew it, pressing dry lips to the inside of her wrist.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he murmured into her skin, so softly it was barely audible. 

‘Well, Andy isn’t here now,’ she pointedly held his gaze when he looked back at her. ‘And I don’t need fireworks and swans…’

 

Swans?’

 

‘Yes…. no. It’s better this way.’

 

‘At eight a.m., practically naked?’ he chuckled incredulously, gesturing to the fact that that he was wearing only boxer shorts and she panties and a flimsy camisole.

 

‘Yeah, like Adam and Eve – kind of biblical.’

 

Jim exhaled deeply, flipping onto his back and staring at the ceiling a moment, before conceding, ‘Well, I guess it beats being like Andy and Angela. Maybe we should just be grateful he didn’t strip down for his proposal.’

Pam smiled, reaching down to weave their fingers together under the sheet. They lied quietly, the only sound their own breathing. There was no Andy, there was no one else at all, just them. And that was plenty.  

After a few minutes when she thought Jim might be dozing, he suddenly gave her hand a quick squeeze. As if on impulse, he sprung up and walked decisively across the room to the chair where he’d thrown his jacket the night before.  

‘Hold on,’ she exclaimed, sitting up and frantically pawing at the night stand. ‘I want to see this.’

She slipped on her glasses and he came into sharp focus just as he sank to one knee in front of her. His expression was at once brave and scared and certain and uncertain and maybe a little amazed at himself. He reminded her of a little boy poised at the edge of a high diving board, persuading himself one last time before leaping that the water beneath would offer a safe landing. 

‘Pam…’ he cleared the gravel from his throat, ‘you know how much I love you…I mean, how long I’ve…’

 

She stared at him expectantly for a silent beat as he frowned slightly, shaking his head almost imperceptibly.

 

‘Know what? I had all this stuff I planned to say, but now I just….’ he paused again.

 

Marry me,’ he finally said, so simply and earnestly that her heart felt like a hot water balloon bursting in her chest. ‘Just, please. Say you will.’

 

And with that she was propelled forward off the bed, his arms catching her as they fell backwards to the floor from the force of it, the ring box tumbling out of his hand.

 

‘Should I take that as yes?’ he looked up at her, stunned.

 

His tone said he was joking, but even without her glasses - which had slid off upon impact - she could see he needed to hear her say it.

 

‘God you’re an idiot. Yes it’s yes…. yes yes yes yes yes yes…’ she repeated until it became an abstract sound, like a musical note. Like joy.

 

And then she was kissing him and he was kissing her and she couldn’t use words any more. But still, she was telling him yes.

 

 

*******

    

 

Chapter End Notes:

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.



Colette is the author of 37 other stories.
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