When he proposes, she opens her mouth in shock. "Oh, my god!" She was so not expecting that, not with all their recent bickering. She's not sure what brought this on, or why he's chosen this moment, but still, here was Roy, down on one knee, saying the words she'd always dreamed of. Well, not the exact words, but the sentiment was right.
"Let's do it baby, let's get married. Why not? I love you, you love me, let's make it official!"
"Oh, my god!"
She wrings her hands, tears welling in her eyes, all emotions at the surface. Her family, his family - they're all there. Beaming. She feels... well, to be honest, she feels trapped. And happy! And old. And overwhelmed. And happy, happy, happy, because of course! He wants to marry her. He wants to MARRY her! In that moment she crosses her fingers fervently and hopes, hopes, hopes that she can make him happy.
"Oh my god!" She says again. "Is that a yes?" he laughs.
"Yes, oh Roy, oh my god, yes!" She leaps forward and throws her arms around him, immediately swallowed in his sturdy embrace. Sighing contentedly, she leans her cheek against his chest, grinning at his rapid heartbeat. He was nervous! Scared to ask! Well, that's one great thing about being Roy's girlfriend - his fiancee - she gets to see the chinks in his tough-guy armor.
So that's it! It's official. They're getting married. Well, when she finishes college, and when he gets a better job. So, someday. And maybe not quite official, because she doesn't have a ring yet. But that will come. He asked her to marry him, she said yes, so they're getting married, and that's that. Official. End of story.
It's silly to need a ring to be engaged, she reminds herself. Not at all practical, and just silly. It's a commitment, a way you feel about each other. He loves her. He wants to marry her. That's enough, or it should be. "Stop it!" she scolds, and realizes that she's arguing with herself, which is silly. "And he'll GET me a ring," she reminds herself firmly. "That warehouse job looks really promising, and will pay better than Blockbuster, and I know that he'll get me a ring as soon as he can afford it."
This is the happiest day of her life, so far. And life with Roy will be wonderful. True, he's not romantic, or particularly generous, but he is kind, and decent, and now that she has more realistic expectations than she did at sixteen, he never lets her down. Not really. Except when she starts reading romance novels or watching fluffy movies that star Meg Ryan, but really, that's her fault, not his. She doesn't have the rosy view of marriage that most girls her age have - she knows that marriage is hard work. Hard work, sacrifice, and compromise. She can't imagine life without Roy - they've been together for so long, and come so far. Lifting her chin, Pam promises herself that whatever happens, she'll make this life work.
He loves her and he'll always be there for her. He'll work hard and make a good life for them; she knows she'll never find a better man. He'll always be there. When she wakes up, when she goes to sleep, all through the weekends and every day for the rest of her life. Suddenly, Pam finds it hard to breathe. She excuses herself for the bathroom. Must be all the champagne, all the excitement, all the people.
"You ok, Peanut Butter?" Her mother is waiting outside the bathroom door. Pam smiles all the way to her eyes at the sound of her childhood nickname, then looks around defensively for Roy, who teases her about it. "You look a little lost there, sweet pea."
"Oh, yeah. No, I'm great! Just a little headache. Can you believe this?" She widens her eyes and grins at her mother in what she hopes is a plausible facsimile of astonishment and joy.
"Yes, it's really exciting sweetie. Roy is such a nice boy, and, well, you two... well, you two... you look so well together." Her mom's chin is up, and she's smiling, but Pam recognizes that smile. It's what she and her sister call her good hostess face, the isn't-life-wonderful-everything's-fine-why-do-you-ask-and-gosh-I-feel-grand face. With a jolt, Pam realizes that her mother's expression is only a reflection of hers. There must have been a draft in the hall, because Pam could swear she hears a door slam shut.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm a little fuzzy on the Pam/Roy/Jim timeline, so bear with me on dates here. Also, trust me that Pam is and will be ok :)
mcmuffins is the author of 2 other stories.
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