Page 74 of Sticky Fingers

Chapter Twenty-Five

Malcolm

Who knewthat a heartbeat could last for an eternity?

Kneeling in front of Sonia, I reach for her hand and take it in mine. My eyes remain locked on hers, and it feels as if time has stopped inside Per Se.

I smile, waiting for her inevitable ‘Yes,’ but she just blinks. Almost as if she didn’t even understand my question.

Well, fuck me.

“Sonia,” I repeat, my lips now feeling dry, “will you marry me?”

Even though I’ve just repeated myself, the only reply I get is a drawn-out silence—the kind of silence that twists my stomach into fucking knots.

I’ve sat across mobsters, corrupt politicians, sheiks, and hardened criminals. I’ve bluffed my way into deals, pressured men that would gladly shoot me in the back of the head, and risked my whole fortune time and time again.

And I’ve never felt like this before.

Not once.

That can only mean this is the right thing to do, yeah? I mean, this is my chance to turn my life around. To become a new fucking man.

All I need is to hear that ‘Yes’ falling from Sonia’s lips and a new Malcolm will emerge from the fucking ground up. A Malcolm that will have a wife, kids, a place to call home and—

“No.”

Hang on.

I know I spaced out for a bit, so I must’ve heard it wrong. Did Sonia sayno?

“Great,” I exclaim with a smile.

I guess was so fucking anxious I must’ve mistaken heryesfor ano.

“I’m going to make you the happiest woman on Earth, Sonia,” I continue, taking the ring into my hands and preparing to put it in her finger.

That’s when she pulls her hand back.

“I said no.”

“What?”

“No, Malcolm, I won’t marry you,” she tells me, her tone soft but firm. Without looking away from me, she places her hands on her lap and purses her lips. “Andnomeansno.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I reply, more confused than I’ve ever been in my entire life.

This is chapter twenty-five, right? It’s the one where we’re supposed to get engaged, kiss, and ride off into the sunset.

Did Sonia misread the plot or is she going off-script? Fuck, I thought romance novels were supposed to follow a fucking formula.

I’m not equipped to deal with this.

“Sonia…what’s going on?” I ask her softly, returning to my seat. “I love you. And I knowyoulove me.”

“Why are you doing this, Malcolm?” she asks, and for the first time tonight I feel a note of sadness in her voice.

It’s subtle, but it’s enough to make me feel as if I have a five-inch stake piercing my heart from one side to the other.