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Impromptu proposal

Author: Malika Swain
last update Last Updated: 2025-05-05 23:00:00

Kade –

The mirror stared back at him with a frown that matched his own. Kade tugged at the collar of his shirt, then tossed the navy button-down across his bed. Too stiff. Too formal. Not like he gave a damn how he looked tonight—except his mom would have something to say if he showed up in a wrinkled tee and his usual jeans.

He settled on a charcoal henley, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal his forearms. Elaine Calloway appreciated effort, even if her son’s heart was in the wrong place tonight. The third Friday of every month, their standing dinner at The Hollow Hearth, a tradition carved from habit and healing. And tonight, he wanted to cancel more than he ever had before.

Aria hadn’t answered his texts. Or his call. Not a single word since he’d left her place with Mason’s smug face burned into his skull. He’d checked his phone so often it should’ve cracked from wear. Maybe she was avoiding him. Maybe she was choosing Mason all o
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  • Reclaiming Aria    Intervention Two?

    The afternoon sun hung low, casting molten light across the fence line where Kade worked, shirt long abandoned and skin slick with sweat. Muscles bunched and flexed with each swing of the hammer, his jaw clenched like it was wired shut, the weight of every unsaid word and stolen kiss tightening across his shoulders. “Still trying to build your way out of feelings, huh?” came a voice behind him, familiar and sharp with mischief. Kade froze mid-swing. Sloane. Sloane watched him for a beat, eyes trailing down his chest with a grin that bordered on indecent. “You know, if I wasn’t hopelessly in love with my emotionally unavailable boss, I’d be asking you to lift hay bales shirtless for me daily.” Kade huffed a laugh, grabbing his flannel from the post. “That desperate for a show, huh?” “Oh, sweetie, it’s not desperation—it’s appreciation,” she shot back, eyes sparkling. “God spent a little extra time on you, I’ll admit. Shame you’re such a stubborn, emotionally stunted jackass

  • Reclaiming Aria    Preparations between the pages

    The bell over the door chimed as Aria stepped into the bookstore, the familiar scent of worn pages, vanilla candles, and a hint of cinnamon wrapping around her like a warm hug. Shelves were half rearranged, a table near the front cleared off for a display, and in the corner, Mrs. Langley—the seventy-something bookstore owner with a sharp tongue and an even sharper sense of style—was already directing chaos with a clipboard in hand. “You’re late,” Mrs. Langley said without looking up, pencil tucked behind her ear. “And you brought backup. Lord help me.” Sloane trailed behind Aria, holding two iced coffees and chewing her gum like a menace. “I’m her emotional support bestie. You’re welcome.” Mrs. Langley smirked. “You’ll be my support when you alphabetize the entire poetry section.” Aria laughed, setting her bag down behind the counter. “Alright, what’s left?” “We need signage, we need a raffle table, and for the love of this town’s nonexistent budget, we need a miracle.” Mrs. Lang

  • Reclaiming Aria    Harold & Marlene Simmons

    Harold Simmons sat alone on the edge of the bed, the phone heavy in his palm. The guest room Aria once stayed in had become his thinking place—the only room in the house that still smelled faintly like her lavender shampoo, the one she used when she didn’t think anyone noticed. He stared at the screen, the contact name blaring back at him like a dare: Marlene. His thumb hovered. “Hell,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve faced worse than a phone call.” But it wasn’t just a phone call. It was reopening old wounds. Apologizing for letting everything slip through his fingers—his wife, his kids, the man he used to be. And now his daughter was engaged to a man Harold didn’t trust. Not from the moment he shook Mason’s hand. Too smooth. Too polished. Something dark under the surface. He sighed, then finally hit Call. It rang once. Twice. Then— “Harold?” Her voice froze him in place. He cleared his throat. “Marlene… I know it’s been a while. But I think we

  • Reclaiming Aria    Hangovers and clues

    The sun was a cruel, smug bastard. Aria groaned into her pillow as it sliced through the curtains, stabbing her straight in the brain. Beside her, Sloane let out something between a grunt and a whimper. “Why did we drink like we’re 16 and sneaking into the parents wine cellar?” Aria muttered, dragging herself upright. “Because we’re emotionally repressed and wine is cheaper than therapy,” Sloane croaked, face still buried in the blanket. “Also, you poured like you were trying to sedate a bear.” Aria laughed softly, holding her pounding head. “Come on. I need greasy food and coffee or I’m going to die.” They threw on hoodies and sunglasses like two hungover fugitives and trudged downtown to the diner—The Hollow Griddle, Calloway’s beloved greasy spoon, nestled right on Main. The old bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, and the comforting smell of sizzling bacon, buttery toast, and endless pots of burnt coffee wrapped around them like a hug from someone who’d seen so

  • Reclaiming Aria    Whirlwind in combat boots: Sloane

    A knock rattles the door like someone’s kicking it, and Aria nearly drops her tea. Another knock—louder. Then the familiar shriek of her name: “Aria Simmons! Open this damn door before I kick it in!” Aria’s heart flips. Only one person in the world has that voice. She swings the door open—and there stands Sloane Dorsey in black combat boots, oversized sunglasses, and holding an iced coffee like a loaded weapon. “What the hell—Sloane?” Sloane pulls her glasses down, eyes gleaming. “Girl. You got engaged and didn’t even text me? Are you brain dead or just possessed?” Before Aria can respond, Sloane storms past her, dumps her bag on the couch, and spins. “Explain. Everything. And don’t lie—I’ve got WiFi and rage.” Aria sighs, overwhelmed. Sloane studies her, and the sass fades just enough. “You look like shit. He’s draining you already, huh?” Aria’s eyes sting. Sloane softens. “Start talking, jewel of the Hollow. We’ve got damage control to do.” Aria slumps onto the

  • Reclaiming Aria    Kade

    The sun was just peeking over the hills when Kade slammed the barn door open, the morning air biting against his sweat-soaked shirt. He’d already mucked three stalls, unloaded feed, and repaired a broken section of fencing before most of his crew even clocked in. He wasn’t sleeping much, hadn’t since that night. Since her. Every time he closed his damn eyes, he saw her—wide-eyed in that restaurant, Mason kneeling like a smug bastard, and her lips mouthing yes. It played on a loop. Her eyes finding his right before she said it. That single look—shattered him. He grunted, throwing another hay bale onto the stack with more force than needed. “You tryna kill yourself, boy?” Kade didn’t look up at the grizzled voice. Old Joe leaned against the stall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed beneath his faded cap. “I’m fine,” Kade muttered, wiping sweat off his brow. “Work needs doin’, I’m doin’ it.” Joe snorted. “Work don’t need a dead man doin’ it. And don’t feed me that bul

  • Reclaiming Aria    The weight of Silence

    Aria’s POV Aria sat at her apartment, the weight of the world pressing down on her chest. The constant ring of her phone seemed more like an oppressive hum, vibrating in her bones. Another congratulatory message. Another person trying to squeeze their happiness into her already cluttered life. Her finger hovered over the keyboard, debating whether to respond. But nothing felt right anymore. Mason’s name—her fiancé—blinked on the screen, the words “Can’t wait to see you tonight, baby” making her feel nauseous instead of loved. The thought of their engagement should have made her heart flutter, but instead, it felt suffocating. “Is this what I wanted?” she thought, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her own eyes searching for something—anything—to give her an answer. She had never wanted the spotlight. She never asked for the town to gossip about her, to whisper about Mason’s proposal, to bombard her with questions abou

  • Reclaiming Aria    The Yes That Didn’t Feel Like One

    Aria hadn’t changed out of her oversized hoodie in three days. Her hair was a messy knot on top of her head, her glasses slipping down her nose as she paced the living room floor—again. The local paper sat mockingly on her kitchen counter. Front page. Right above the fold. “Dorsey Legacy Secures Small Town Royalty” Beneath the headline was a photo of Mason down on one knee, beaming like a man who’d just won the lottery. And next to him—her. Frozen, overwhelmed, saying yes before her mind had even caught up with her lips. Her smile was soft. Her eyes, glassy. Her hand rested on her chest, while Mason cradled her waist and leaned in for the kiss that stole her breath—and her freedom. She hadn’t read the article. She didn’t need to. The title said enough. Her stomach turned again, the same nauseous roll she’d felt that night. Say something. Say anything. But she didn’t.

  • Reclaiming Aria    Impromptu proposal

    Kade – The mirror stared back at him with a frown that matched his own. Kade tugged at the collar of his shirt, then tossed the navy button-down across his bed. Too stiff. Too formal. Not like he gave a damn how he looked tonight—except his mom would have something to say if he showed up in a wrinkled tee and his usual jeans. He settled on a charcoal henley, the sleeves rolled just enough to reveal his forearms. Elaine Calloway appreciated effort, even if her son’s heart was in the wrong place tonight. The third Friday of every month, their standing dinner at The Hollow Hearth, a tradition carved from habit and healing. And tonight, he wanted to cancel more than he ever had before. Aria hadn’t answered his texts. Or his call. Not a single word since he’d left her place with Mason’s smug face burned into his skull. He’d checked his phone so often it should’ve cracked from wear. Maybe she was avoiding him. Maybe she was choosing Mason all o

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