Washington, D.C. Seven months ago…
"Isabella Kane, will you marry me?"
A series of gasps traveled around the large dining table at Maestro restaurant. Handsome Randall Jarrett smiled his newly acquired veneers at his girlfriend.
Isabella dropped her fork and fluttered a shaky hand across her heart. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers. Surely she hadn't heard her boyfriend of eight weeks correctly. "We're perfect for each other," he added, clutching her hand.
Perfect, she noted. Not "I love you with all of my heart" or "I'm crazy about you and I can't see myself living without you." Just a calculated "we're perfect for each other."
Isabella stared down at a breathtaking two-carat princess-cut diamond and had a hard time pushing the word "no" through her lips. How could she? Before Randall she had never had a serious boyfriend her entire life—let alone someone as gorgeous as Randall notice she was alive.
"Isabella?" Randall questioned with an awkward chuckle and then glanced at his parents and potential in-laws. "You're not going to leave me hanging here, are you?"
Isabella smiled; at least she tried anyway, and waited for the right words to come.
And waited.
And waited.
"Sweetheart?" Isabella's father spoke up and touched his daughter's elbow. "Are you okay?" he whispered.
"I think she's in shock," Randall injected with a nervous titter. "It's not every day a woman gets a marriage proposal."
Her parents joined Randall in his awkward laughter, giving Isabella sufficient time to break her silent trance. "Yes," she agreed. "It's all so…unexpected. We've only been dating two months."
"Well," Randall's stepmother, Eunice, piped up.
"I, for one, thought Randall would never settle down."
Embarrassment darkened Randall's face. "Mother."
"What? It's true," Eunice said and smiled. "And frankly, I don't think he could have made a better choice."
"Amen," the other parents chorused and then clinked their champagne glasses together in a quick toast.
So they had all known he was going to propose.
Isabella's face warmed beneath their open praises, but she couldn't help but feel Ms. Eunice stretched the truth a bit—well, actually, quite a lot. Fact was, Randall Jarrett with his athletic, six foot three body and creamy, peanut-butter skin could have snagged any woman he wanted off looks alone. His wealth and ambition were bonuses.
What surprised Isabella was that he wanted her— a school-teased ugly duckling who'd survived her adolescence by burying her head in books. Before she knew it, she had sailed through high school without attending a single sporting event or prom. A late bloomer, she couldn't even fill her paltry "B" cups until she was a freshman in college. But luckily, she finally found a home with Delta Phi Theta sorority, where brains were exalted more than beauty.
Still considered a plain Jane, Isabella couldn't believe the direction her life shifted.
Randall, still on bended knee, held up his free hand. "We can't celebrate just yet. I'm still waiting for an answer."
"Well, of course she'll marry you," Katherine assured in her honeyed southern voice. "Isabella knows you two are a perfect match."
Everyone murmured in agreement and glasses clinked all around. Again, Isabella noticed no one said anything about love.
"If it's all the same," Randall said. "I'd like to hear her answer." His dark, almost black eyes bored into Isabella.
The table fell silent as Isabella swallowed the invisible lump in her throat while maintaining a synthetic smile. The war between love and common sense raged in both Isabella's heart and mind, and on this night, this very important night, there was no clear winner.
After one last nervous glance around the table, Isabella took a deep breath and rode to Randall's rescue. "Yes. Of course, I'll marry you."
Both sets of parents erupted in cheer, while Randall plucked a diamond ring from its velvet box and slid it down her slim finger. Honestly, it was the prettiest shackle she'd ever seen.
The senator leaned over and wrapped an arm around her waist and planted a kiss against her left cheek.
"Baby girl, you've made me so proud." He gave her a hearty shake and rewarded her with another kiss.
For the first time that night, Isabella's smile was genuine. She lived to make her parents proud, and tonight they looked just as proud as when she graduated class valedictorian from high school and summa cum laude in both college and law school.
All her life Isabella had done what was expected of her and being the only daughter of a prominent senior senator, great things were indeed expected. After obtaining her law degree from Yale, she interned at the White House. There she met Randall, a straight-laced, ambitious attorney who'd swooped into her life with the speed of a locomotive and then disappeared just as quickly. Three years later, he popped up again while she hammered into tax law with Smith, Bryant and Smith, LLC.
Sure, she was dazzled by his attention. The man was exceedingly handsome and came from a powerful and wealthy family, qualities her parents approved.
However, after a few dates, when the newness of Randall wore off, Isabella realized there wasn't much there. No sparks, no romance…no nothing. In fact, she suspected Randall was trying to construct an ideal power couple instead of searching for a true soul mate.
She suspected her father was doing the same.
Many times, she wondered what Randall saw in her. She wasn't ugly, but she certainly wasn't beautiful either. She'd seen pictures of Randall's exgirlfriends. They all looked as though they should've had long careers in Hollywood or on the runways of Milan.
Isabella had often thought that the only pretty thing about her was her name.
Her mood flip-flopped for the rest of the night and passed by in a blur. There were smiles, laughter and champagne—lots of champagne. Not until her buzz kicked did Isabella relax. It also afforded her the opportunity to detach and watch the swirling excitement as if everyone was talking about someone else's life.
Not her own.
Randall caught her in the act and leaned over to ask, "Honey, are you feeling all right?"
The mindless chatter stopped and everyone refocused their attention on her.
"Of course, sweetheart," she assured. "I'm deliriously happy."
Smiling, Randall squeezed her hand while his dark eyes sparkled. "You can't be any happier than I am."
He was certainly right about that. But who knows? Maybe she would grow to love him.
And in Atlanta…
"Derrick, will you marry me?" Meghan Campbell stared up at her boyfriend with tear-glossed eyes. In her hands a black velvet box held a platinum band nestled in its center. "I know this comes as a surprise," she laughed. "But…I'm hoping you know in your heart of hearts, as well as I do that we belong together."
Derrick closed his eyes and expelled a long breath. After a nice evening out with his Kappa Psi Kappa Fraternity Alumni, he had not expected to come home to this. In hindsight, maybe he should have.
"You don't have to answer right now," Meghan rushed to say. "Just…think about it. I mean, we're happy, right? We have so many things in common. So why not get married?"
"Meghan—"
"Derrick, I know you're scared to settle down," she continued. "But you don't have to be. We don't have to get married right away. If you want we can have a long engagement. You know, so you'll have time to get used to the idea. We can even wait a few years to have children."
Setting his new Distinguished Service Award on top of the coffee table, Derrick fingered his tie loose and then stood from the leather sofa in order to put distance between them. "Meghan—"
"Derrick, please. I—"
"Meghan, stop. Please." He drew a deep breath and forced himself to stare into her sad brown eyes.
"I can't marry you," he said as gently as he could.
"I love you, but I'm not in love with you."
Snapping the velvet box closed, Meghan choked on a sob, while her entire body imploded before his eyes.
Derrick returned to her side, kneeling on the living room's plush carpet and pulling her trembling body into his arms. "I'm so sorry, Meg. I never meant to give you hope. I've always been upfront with you."
Meghan tilted her head, her eyes swimming in tears. "Maybe you could grow to love me?"
Sullen, he shook his head. "I'm sorry." He halfway expected more tears, prepared himself even. What he received instead was a burst of anger.
"You're sorry? Sorry?" With one strong shove, Meghan sent Derrick reeling backwards onto the floor. "Is that all you have to say after three years— you're sorry? Screw you!"
"Meg—"
"Don't! You lied," she screeched, jumping to her feet.
"I never—"
"Not with your words but with your actions. You've always made me feel special."
"You are special to me."
"You showered me with gifts, offered me security. You've done everything to give me hope that I would be Mrs. Derrick Knight one day. My father is a Baptist minister. I'm supposed to get married."
Derrick wished with all his might that he could love her the way she wanted to be loved, but he couldn't make his heart do it. He couldn't lie to her or to himself.
Wailing, Meghan kicked over the coffee table, and even sideswiped a lamp on an end table as she stormed across the living room. "I wasted three years waiting for you!"
"I don't consider them a waste," he offered as he climbed to his feet, only to dodge a flying vase aimed at his head.
"I just bet you don't! I've done everything a good girlfriend should do. I've been faithful—"
"I never asked you to do that," he said. "We agreed that this was an open relationship."
Meghan's eyes widened. "You've been sleeping with other women?"
"We agreed—"
"Asshole!"
Another vase soared through the air. When it crashed inches from his head, a few shattered pieces ricocheted into his eyes. "Ow! Meghan you're being unreasonable."
"You're damn right I am." She snatched her purse and coat from the foyer's closet and then turned to give him a final glare. "I...
