Just as I realized that, Josh got out of his seat, knelt in front of me, and opened a ring box.
At first, I was frozen. I wanted to say or do something before this went any further, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t even hear what he was saying over the pounding of my heart and the rush of blood in my ears. When his lips stopped moving, I heard myself say, “I can’t,” and then my feet made the decision my brain couldn’t. I got up and ran from the restaurant.
The store was still open, so I hoped Owen would be there. I supposed it wasn’t utterly essential that I talk to him now. He’d be there tomorrow, and I could talk to him then. But something drove me to get there right away. I knew who was right for me and I didn’t want to waste a moment. After the way I’d left him, I didn’t want to give him a chance to dwell on the way I’d acted toward him. If I gave him too much time to think about it, he might come to hate me, and I couldn’t bear that.
I tried flagging down several cabs, but they all passed right by me. A motorcycle messenger stopped and said, “Do you need a lift? You look like you’re having an emergency.”
I knew I wasn’t supposed to trust strangers, but this was a crisis, so I said, “You know the bookstore on Seventy-third?”
“Yeah, I won the treasure hunt there today—hey, that’s where I’ve seen you before. Hop on.”
He looked familiar enough that I decided to go for it. I hiked the skirt of my dress up to my thighs to climb on behind him, and he handed me the spare helmet that was hooked to the seat. I held on to him for dear life as he tore down the streets, weaving in and out of traffic. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, sure we were going to crash at any moment, and before I knew it, the cycle came to a stop. “Here we are,” the driver said.
I dismounted shakily, handed him the helmet, then waved thanks to him as I hurried to the store’s entrance. It was more than an hour before closing time, and the store was still full of customers browsing the shelves. Our promotional efforts seemed to have paid off, I noted, but that wasn’t my focus. I needed to find Owen. I thought about going to the customer service desk and using the store’s public address system but decided that would be overkill. Instead, I headed toward the manager’s office with the hope that he’d be in there doing paperwork.
I didn’t realize that I’d started jogging—no mean trick in high heels—so I could get there faster until some of the patrons stopped looking at books and turned to stare at me. I forced myself to slow to a brisk walk as I wove through the aisles. When I had to stop to let a couple with a stroller get past, I turned just in time to see Owen coming down the stairs. Before I knew what I was doing, I called out his name.