The Proposal - Signed Paperback

Chapter One: Shelby

“This is going to be perfect.”

I turned around to face my longtime best friend with narrowed eyes. He stood with his arms crossed, his smile broad, and his green eyes wide as he excitedly surveyed the crowd in front of him. Stomping over to him, I whacked him on the arm with my plastic clipboard with a laugh.  “Are you kidding? Of course it is. You hired me to create the perfect flash mob, so I’m delivering.”

Paul kept watching the dancers, then bit his lip. “There is one thing.”

“What? You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” I tried to keep my tone even, but it was a struggle.

“Huh? No. It’s not the proposal. It’s just … should I have … you know, done the dancing thing?”

I rolled my eyes. “You opted for the package where the groom-to-be doesn’t participate in the choreography. Honestly, bud, I’d stick to that.”

His eyes slid over to meet mine and he readjusted his arms, letting out the tiniest little harumph. “What are you saying? Are you saying I can’t dance?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Paul laughed heartily. “Thanks a lot.”

Turning back to the dancers in front of me, I saw Chrissy, one of our newest volunteers skip a step and wind up off her mark. “Wait, go back to the ball change, guys. Chrissy, don’t forget to pivot right after the spin.”

Everyone stopped, the dancer closest to the stereo rewound the track, and they went again. This time, Chrissy nailed it, and I grinned at Paul. “They look amazing. This is going to be one of my best, I can feel it.”

Paul looked down at me, a smile playing on his full lips. Before he could say anything, his phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out, eyes widening as he showed me that it was his girlfriend (the unsuspecting target of our flash mob proposal) calling. I skipped over to the stereo and cut the music, motioning to Paul with my hand at my ear to mimic the phone. I told them to take five and pumped down the air with my palm to tell them to keep their voices down as he answered the call.

“Hey, Rox,” he said easily.

I tiptoed back over to him, motioning for him to put the call on speaker.

He smirked as Roxy’s melodic voice filled the air mid-sentence. “… getting my nails done when Mrs. Rochester walked in with her cat. Who brings a cat to a freaking nail salon, anyway? And of course, she sits down next to me with that furball, and my eyes immediately get all itchy and I want to rub them but, hello, I’m getting my nails done. And then I swear, it was like the cat blew its dander on me, and I started choking and had to get out of there. So now I’m on my way to a different nail salon in the next town over. With half-done nails. I look like a freak.”

I pursed my lips to keep from laughing, looking up at Paul to see him doing the same. His eyes sparkled as he blinked at the phone, clearly trying to figure out what to say. “I’m sorry, baby. That sounds rough.”

“It totally is,” she lamented. “I’ll never be able to go back to Nails Express for as long as I live. I just wanted my nails to look pretty for our big date tomorrow, so this new nail place better be good.”

We shared a conspiratorial grin and I glanced over my shoulder at the dozen dancers who would be helping us make their big date a huge success. In addition to teaching at our local dance studio with Paul’s girlfriend, Roxy, and a few other dancers, I ran a side gig coordinating flash mob proposals. They were becoming super trendy on YouTube, and since I was a dancer who had a soft spot for public declarations of love (not that I’d ever received one), it seemed like the perfect thing for me to do to bring in some extra money.

That was what it was like being a dancer trying to make a living on your art. You figure out multiple income streams that would allow you to do what you do and still pay the bills. I coached the dance team at our local high school. I taught ballet to children at the studio. I did dance lessons for couples to prep for their weddings. I uploaded tutorials on YouTube with affiliate links to bring in passive income. And last but not least, I charged a few thousand bucks a pop for flash mob proposals. Well, Paul got the best friend discount, but still. After life-changing news of a genetic heart condition put a halt to my dreams of being a professional dancer in New York, all of this hustle meant I could do what I loved and not have to get a regular job. At the end of the day, that was the most important thing. While it lasted, anyway.

“I’m sure you’re going to look beautiful for our date,” Paul said.

“Thanks, Pauly,” she crooned, and I bit back a chuckle when he winced.

Paul hated that she called him that. He’d asked her to stop when they first started dating over a year ago, but he hadn’t pushed it. At the time, they were long-distance dating, and it wasn’t as annoying over a text. But now that he was back home, it grated on him, I could tell.

When Paul and Roxy met, he’d been stationed in Hawaii. I’d introduced him to Roxy when he’d come home to Bluffton, South Carolina for Christmas to visit family, and they’d immediately hit it off. Most of their communication over the last year was via text or email. That was very Paul. He wasn’t much of a talker with anyone other than me, but he could string a sentence together, and he and Roxy would chat all day. I thought it was adorable, like a classic pen pal love story. Especially when you added in the fact that he was a paratrooper with the Marines.

All of that being said, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little concerned about Paul proposing to her after only being back in Bluffton for a couple of months now. I’d voiced those concerns repeatedly when he’d first brought it up, telling him I thought he should give it another year of them dating in person first, just in case it changed things. But he was insistent that I (“of all people”) should understand that life is short, love is rare, and sometimes you just have to take a leap and see what happened. Coming from a guy who jumped out of perfectly good airplanes for a living, that view made sense, I supposed.

So here we were, planning an epic flash mob proposal, to be presented in the town square tomorrow night. It was Paul’s idea. He said since Roxy was a dancer, it was the perfect way for him to propose to her while also supporting his best friend’s business. Despite my reservations about him proposing already, I was touched that he wanted to include me and I loved that he wanted to go the extra mile. So, I proceeded to choreograph an amazing routine to “Sucker” by the Jonas Brothers. And yes, there would be dancing on top of cars since that’s a line in the song and I couldn’t help myself.

I tuned back in as Paul wrapped up with his fiancée-to-be. “Yep, love you, too. Bye.”

Turning back to my dancers now that he was done with his call, I clapped my hands. “Okay, guys. Let’s get back to it! Take it from the top.”

Paul and I watched as they ran through the routine again. We had tables set up to represent the cars we’d stage in the square ahead of time. I was pretty sure dancing on top of a stranger’s car wasn’t cool, but since we worked together so often, my dancers were kind enough to park their own cars in the right spots so we knew we’d be able to use them for the routine. Bunch of good sports, for sure.

When they were finished, Paul and I clapped. “Great work, everyone. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Paul thanked them as they wished him good luck on their way out, and I saw a telltale blush creep up his neck and onto his ears. Was he getting nervous for tomorrow?

Paul and I had been friends since freshman year of high school. We were fifteen and even though we’d gone to school together since kindergarten, we’d run in completely different social circles until that point. I was a dancer, dreaming of one day becoming a prima ballerina in New York, and he was a skater kid, not dreaming of much beyond the next grunge band to blare in his headphones. At that point, I’d been dancing seven days a week. It was my whole world. I balanced math class and blistered feet—equally painful in my mind—but it was all worth it to reach my goals. 

When my cousin unexpectedly passed away from a heart attack at only twenty-seven years old, our family discovered that hypertrophic cardiomyopathy ran in our genes, so we all got tested—and then my entire life changed when I found out I had HCM too.

Needless to say, I had a hard time processing my new diagnosis at first. Not only was I mourning the loss of my amazing cousin, but now I was also terrified that the same thing would happen to me someday. And even worse than that (at the time) was the doctor telling my parents I needed to dial back my dance schedule. It was too rigorous. Too laborious. Too strenuous. All words I’d begun to hate with a fiery passion. 

Paul found me sitting on a bench, crying, when I was supposed to be in class. He was ditching too, because he always did, so he sat with me. Our friendship was born that day and had never faded. He was my person. Through and through. So, now that I was helping him propose to his girlfriend, I felt a fierce need to make sure he was positive he wanted to do this before it was too late.

And I clung hard to that need. Because that need was the one a platonic friend would have, which is what I was. What I always would be. Paul deserved someone who could give him the world. And that someone wasn’t me.

“I can’t believe tomorrow is the day. Are you nervous?” I asked, feeling him out.

He raised a brow at me as he tucked his phone back in the pocket of his dark wash jeans. “No. Should I be?”

I pushed his arm. “No, of course not.”

“You don’t think she’s gonna turn me down, do you?”

“Paul. She won’t turn you down. She’d have to be crazy to do that.”

“Well, good, cuz that would make me look like an idiot in front of the entire town for this whole flash mob thing.”

I laughed. “You’re not going to look like an idiot in front of the entire town, even if she does turn you down. You’re going to look like a man who’s willing to go big or go home when it comes to proposals.”

“I mean, that’s kind of what I’m going for. I think what you do is so cool. You know, the big statement. Going to all that effort for someone. I couldn’t imagine proposing and not having you help me pull it off.”

“Yeah, for sure.” I forced a smile that I hoped looked genuine. Well, it was genuine, because he was right. I loved that I could give people that chance to put a ton of effort behind this important question. I guess there was just a little bitter part of me that wished I were in Roxy’s shoes even though I knew I could never be.

“Anyway,” he went on with a chuckle, “as long as I don’t go home with the ring still in my pocket, I’ll be fine.”

I swallowed hard as I turned away from him to gather my stuff. “You’re not actually nervous about whether or not she’ll say yes, right?”

“No, not really.” He shuffled his feet, lifting one hand and scratching the back of his head. “Okay, wait. Maybe. It’s just that I’ve been feeling like something is a little … off between us.”

Freezing in my preparations to go home, I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“Well, ever since I got back, I think I expected it was going to be this big amazing switch from being long-distance to a real-life couple. But instead, she’s actually been kind of distant.”

“Maybe this is just how she is in a relationship, but you didn’t know that because you were in Hawaii.”

He nodded. “Right. Yeah. I guess I can’t really compare how she was before to this since it is really different.”

“Exactly,” I replied, watching him closely. He seemed like he needed some hope right now, so I did my best to bury my own pointless feelings and just be encouraging. “Besides, most women don’t want to date a guy in the military because they know he’s gonna leave and they don’t want to have a long-distance relationship. Now, you’re back. So obviously, things are going to be better, not worse.”

Paul turned and paced to the row of long windows on the back wall that stretched the entire length of the room. He put his hands on the ballet bar, staring out at the view of Main Street below. “That makes sense, but you’d be surprised how many times she’s brought up how much she misses our texting conversations. Or how much she misses the way I would send her a good morning text every morning.” 

“Well, why don’t you start sending her a good morning text every morning again?”

His back still to me, I watched as he hung his head, his shoulder blades flexing through the thin cotton of his tee as he gripped the bar. “I did, the next morning, but it didn’t really seem to help.”

Nerves filled me. I didn’t want to discourage him. I’d cautioned him already, and he shut me down. There came a point where I worried that too much nagging about Roxy would lead to a wedge being driven between us. And I wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow that to happen. Paul was there for me when no one else was. He’d been the only person outside my family to know about my diagnosis for a long time. After being my rock for so long, he deserved as much happiness as possible. So I’d bit my tongue and made an effort to be supportive.

But now that he was voicing his own concerns … I had to be honest, right? “Paul, are you sure you want to go through with this?”

He pushed off the bar and faced me. “Yes. I’m sure. I’m just venting.”

“Right.”

“Maybe it’s cold feet?” he said, but it came out more like a question.

I bit my lip. “I mean, there’s something to be said about following your gut. If you don’t think proposing is the right move, maybe it isn’t. Even though you’ll still have to pay the dancers even if you cancel, loser. I’ll work for free but they won’t.”

He laughed, making me smile, then shook his head. “No, it’s fine. It’s all good. When I was in Hawaii, we talked about getting married, so this isn’t out of the blue. We talked about wanting to build a life together and stuff, you know?”

“Good.” It was good. It was great, even. That was all I wanted for my best friend. For him to be happy and build a life with someone.

“In fact,” he continued, wagging his finger at me, “I probably would have proposed already if this whole flash mob thing hadn’t taken so long.”

“Hey, you can’t rush perfection.” I put my hands on my hips as my eyes scanned my dance studio. “But hey, at least you had this time to make sure it’s really what you want.”

“It is what I want,” he insisted. Then he looked toward the window again, pausing for a long beat. “As long as it’s what she wants.”

The uncertainty in his gaze when he looked back at me made my stomach hurt. Paul had talked me through every mindset shift while I processed my dreams being crushed by my diagnosis. He helped me plan out a new, safer routine in a way that satisfied my parents and also didn’t mean erasing dance completely. He reminded me to take my meds—though I didn’t need him to, it just made him feel good—and he always made sure I didn’t overdo it. I came to him every time I wanted to freak out and throw something, and he and his calm voice could soothe me like no one else. All I wanted was to be able to be the same for him.

I stepped forward, putting one hand on his big shoulder. “Paul. Chill out. Roxy is going to be so happy tomorrow when she sees what you have planned for her. She’s going to feel special and loved and ready to spend her life with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed after a moment. Then he held up a hand between us, eyeing me suspiciously. “Is that a rehearsed line that you give to every nervous guy the night before his flash mob proposal?”

“Maybe.” I grinned, turning on my heel to take my meds since my watch had just buzzed with a reminder.

While it was true that most men were nervous the night before their proposal when we did the final rehearsal, I really had tailored my words to Paul. And I hoped he heard them, and I hoped I was right. I dug around in my bag, looking for the small zippered pouch I carried my medication in.

“Hey, it’s five. Have you taken your meds?” he asked, coming up behind me.

I shot him a mock glare and kept sifting through my bag. “I’m looking for them right now, Mom.”

“Just making sure.”

My fingers closed around the black leather bag with the delicate pair of pink ballet slippers stitched on the front. I pulled it out and measured my dosage, taking the water bottle Paul handed me with a grateful nod. When I finished, I put everything away. “Are you hanging out with Roxy when she’s back from getting her nails done?”

“Yeah, but it sounds like she’s gonna have to be a while since she’ll be coming from the next town over. Do you want to grab a bite?”

I nodded and picked up my dance bag, handing it over when Paul motioned for it. “Yeah, where should we go?”

“Well, it’s Tuesday, so—”

“Taco Tuesday,” I finished.

“Exactly.” We high-fived then headed for the door, when suddenly a wave of dizziness came over me and I swayed slightly. He caught me around the shoulders and looked at me with alarm. “Whoa, hey, are you okay?”

I eased out of his arms and got my balance. “Yes, I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten today.”

“What? Why?”

“It was a busy day,” I said, shaking my head with my eyes wide to remind him that his rehearsal was one of the many things on my to-do list for today. “I’m fine. We’re literally on our way to go eat right now.” I turned my back on him and flipped the lights of the studio off before closing the door and locking it. 

Because Paul had been there for me since the very beginning of my HCM diagnosis, he also knew all of the ups and downs relating to it. It made him an amazing friend but was also why we’d never become more than that. Not only did I want him to find someone who would give him what I couldn’t, but after everything we’d been through, there was no way his kindness could ever morph into something romantic. Though I had to admit, I’d secretly always wished it could. It was dumb, of course. As dumb as holding onto the dream of becoming a prima even with my condition and the years of practice I’d missed. And yet, both dreams still hung out somewhere deep in my chest, locked away for only me to long for.

“Okay, well, I just worry about you,” he said with a shrug, bumping my arm gently with his elbow. 

I gave him what I hoped was an easy smile, pushing down the ghost of a feeling that wouldn’t do anyone any good. “I’m fine. Let’s go get some tacos.”

❤️ Military Hero

❤️ Friends-to-Lovers

❤️ Dancer with a heart condition

❤️ Wedding Setting

❤️ Found Family

❤️ Small-Town Vibes

Brides of Beaufort

📚 The Proposal - Paul & Shelby
📚 The Planner - Will & Aria
📚 The Bridesmaid - Zac & Layla
📚 The Fake Date - Beau & Lindi
📚 The Contract - Chase & Zoe
📚 The Proposal - Nate & Nikki

Related Standalone:

📚 The Beginning - Thatcher & Hattie

Note: Chronologically, this one is set 30 years before book one of this series. It’s where you’ll meet Ms. Hattie (the much-loved, meddling matchmaker in the main series) and watch her find forever with her now husband, Thatcher. There’s no reason you can’t read it last if you’d like to start with the main books, but if you’d like to read them in chronological order, that’s how it goes! :)

📚 BONUS 📚

Love the San Diego or Kailua Marines? The Brides of Beaufort series follows our Kailua heroes, and you’ll even see cameos from the characters in San Diego! But, no worries, all of the books can be read as standalones if you’re just in the mood for a specific trope/location. It’s just fun to run into old friends sometimes if you read them in order! :)

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ The Proposal

"What a sweet, beautiful romance!! I loved Paul and Shelby's story, watching as they went through struggles with her heart condition and making things work together. The Proposal is a clean, military romance with fun characters and great storyline! Excited to read the second book!"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Do NOT miss this one!!!

"Jess writes a fantastic story in The Proposal. Shelby has genetic heart condition. Paul is a Marine. They have been friends since they were 15 years old. Jess writes a beautiful love story that is so different but AWESOME!"

⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Such a great story!

"Jess has done it again! This story was amazing and I am looking forward to reading the rest of the series. From friends to lovers and more. I loved reading about their story and I always feel like I know the characters. Highly recommend!"