Engagement Proposal Book Novels & Stories

I ask. I’m looking at Braxton for a response, but he just clicks his tongue out of frustration. So I turn my gaze back to Helena. Without ado, she answers, "I have a proposal that Braxton had already refused, but I hope you can accept it. It’s just a temporary ruse, if you will. Would you consider... playing along with this fiction of our engagement? Just until we can put an end to our parents’ patheticness and protect both your reputation and mine.”

I walked out to the garden, away from the noise, and finally looked down at the folder still clutched against my chest. My hands shook as I opened it. Inside was a marriage proposal. Not a romantic one. A contract, typed in clean black letters, with my name and Damien Black’s name printed side by side at the top of the first page. My full legal name was already there, along with details no lawyer could have gathered in the few minutes since my engagement collapsed. Whatever this was, Damien hadn’t prepared it tonight. He wasn’t asking me to fall in love with him. Whatever Damien Black wanted from me, romance clearly wasn’t part of the offer.

We fall asleep tangled together. And I realize: I'm not anxious about the proposal anymore. Not checking my phone for clues. Not analyzing every plan he makes. I'm just—living. With him. Building our life. The proposal will happen when it happens. And that's enough. Monday, I journal: "Week thirty-three. Clara is in rehab. The proposal is postponed indefinitely. And I'm okay with it. Actually okay, not performing okay. Because the engagement isn't about the ring or the moment or the perfect timing. It's about the choice. The commitment. And we've already made those. Every day we show up for each other. Every crisis we weather together. That's the real engagement. The proposal is just making

It was a gift given to Milton by me. "Claire saved your life," Cheryl sobbed, tears streaming. "You promised her anything she wanted. She's crazy about you. She'll propose, and you'll say yes, won't you? I'm sorry, but I can't live a life without you. I'd rather die." Her voice broke, each word a calculated dart. Milton's face crumpled, and his deep voice dripped with concern. "Come down, Cheryl. Let me explain." Cheryl was his everything. Her love for pink meant the Dior bag he'd bought for my birthday ended up as her reward for passing her finals.

The arrangement is so elegant that something constricts painfully in my chest. When we get to the bedroom and the final design comes into view, my feet grind to a halt. This is a proposal. The words “Marry Me” are written in designs of red and pink petals. Different varieties of a refusal start to dance around in my skull. This is so out of my field of thought that it makes me cringe. I need money for Nonna Matilda’s insulin doses and medical bills, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to marry some stranger. Or is this some kind of kink? What kind of proposal role-play is this?

“Anyways back to business, we have to have a story to tell in case people ask us how we met and then we need to plan a proposal party, then the wedding, everything needs to be done in a month or less if possible.” “Huhn? You need to slow down alright? What story?” “Yeah, Ahn… we could say I met you in the first week of your internship.” “That could only work if you were there but you weren't, how about this coffee shop?”, she suggested instead. Thing was, I was there, but I didn't see her. If I did, would I still want her to be my wife? Yeah, I think so. “Perfect! Say three months ago, I was in the country around that time so it would work, and we decided to keep it a secret due to the tablo

Already, it was too hard to think straight, much less argue effectively. "Too bad," he said before kissing me deeply. "I just want you," I insisted. "Forever." "You're right about the forever part. I'll never let you go." He sped up, driving into me quicker, like he couldn't help but hurry to the end. His facial features were pulled taut as he strained, but he still maintained eye contact with me, pumping with such force. "You need a real proposal, Anastasia. A real engagement," he insisted. "And I'm going to give you one."

I crossed my arms in front of my chest while waiting for his answer. “I am glad that you are fast to get that, Ms. Croven. As a matter of fact, I will not lose anything if I participate in this agreement.” I can see that he is trying to suppress his laughter now. The nerve of this guy to laugh! Does he think engagement is a joke? I rose from the sofa and stand in front of him, my arms still crossed and my eyes looking at him unbelievingly. “But, Mr. Fuenter, it seems that it did not appear to you that this engagement can lead to an actual marriage, and that can absolutely change and ruin both of our lives.”

“No, we never yet went out on a date.” “Why not?” I asked, surprised by his response. “After I made the sex proposal, we just continued to have sex until eventually, you got pregnant. Everything happened so fast that, I never got around to bringing you to dinner,” he replied sadly. “Okay, what did you meant by sex proposal though?” I asked curiously.

I looked towards the flames that Heated the room, pulling the dampness from the air. I loved the scent of the burning wood mixing with the wine that Izar had poured for us. Taking a sip from the goblet, I looked down at my lap. Looking at the album filled with announcements and invitations. “I like this one.” I said, pointing to the engagement announcement with the silver border. The card stock was thick, moving my fingers over the swirling letters. I could just imagine how our names would look. It spoke of having money, yet still being a simple design.