Page 134 of Just Another Silly Love Song

Ben crossed his arms. “Or maybe she’s offended by his choice of clothes and would be able to handle a crossdressing husband if he just had a little more sense of style. Not even close. Divorce.”

Lori crossed her arms. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Andyouare beautiful.”

“That will get you a free mocha, but not a divorce for Pauline.”

“I’ll take that mocha and enjoy every sip.” I held up a finger. “But hear me out on this. Pretend you’re married to me.”

Lori smiled. “Are you testing the waters to see how I would react to the thought of marriage with Dr. Tough Love?”

I scoffed. “Of course not. I know you wouldlovebeing married to me.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Of course. And I would treat you like the queen that you are.”

“You already do,” Lori said.

“Good point, but just know that it would continue.” I grinned. “Oh, and you would have to share the bed with me and Bob Barker.”

“Wow, you really know how to sweeten the deal.”

“I know, but imagine this . . . You’re married to me, you come home from work, and I greet you at the door wearing a girdle, Jimmy Choo pumps, and a Gucci tote on my shoulder.Isuggest that we do our nails bright pink, then take a Pilates class where we can wear the same Lululemon yoga pants. Oo-la-la! Are you truly going to embrace my bold new life choices and super-adorable accessories?”

Lori thought about it for a moment. “He’s right, Pauline. You need to get a divorce.”

I pumped my fist in the air. “Yes! That’s my girl!”

Lori was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I loved her with all my heart.

And little did she know we were fewer than ten minutes away from me proposing to her live on the air. I couldn’t wait for her to be my wife and I wanted the whole world to know.

Just one more call, and then I would pop the question.

I glanced across at the woman who would be my future wife. I was going to be the luckiest husband in the world.

Lori arched an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied.

“Right. You’re up to something,” Lori said. “Good luck, Pauline, and thanks for the call.”

I eyed the monitor and then pressed the button for line two. “Eugene, welcome to the show.”

“Good morning,” Eugene said. “I was hoping you could tell me the best way to propose to an eighty-year-old woman. I’m going to pop the question next month.”

I stared at the microphone.

Was he seriously doing this?

The caller wasn’t named Eugene.

It was Grandpa Wayne using a fake name.

Lori arched an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. I think I recognize that voice.”