I Just Want to be Loved

The Bet

“So,” I asked as I got into Louis car, “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Please?” I begged, but he just chuckled and shook his head. “Uggggg!” I groaned. “Well, at least I know that it’s not some place fancy, thank god.”

“Why do you think that?”

“You specifically told me not to get dressed up and just to wear something normal."

“Oh yeah, that might be a little bit of a clue.”

“So, guy guys are taking us somewhere?” I asked, changing that conversation.

“Yep.”

“Where?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a surprise.”

“And that’s a reason because?”

“Where are you ladies taking us tonight?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s a surprise,” I grumbled and crossed my arms.

“Exactly.”

“Well, you’re not aloud to propose to me on this trip, okay?”

“Nope,” he said and shook his head. “One of the main reasons that we’re going to where we’re going is for my proposal.”

When he said that, my eyes widened. I knew exactly where we were going because Harry had told me around a month ago. Disney World.

“And how are you going to ask me?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “It’s a surprise?” he nodded.

A few minutes later he yelled, “We’re here!” and pulled the car into a parking space and jumped out.

I pulled my jacket tighter around myself as I stepped into the cold, and was surprised, yet relived, when I saw the place that we were eating at.

“A pub Louis? Really?” I asked with a small smile.

“I thought that you might like it since it’s normal and not super fancy.”

“I love it,” I told him and followed him inside.

We walked to the far corner and sat down. I looked around the pub and saw a few middle aged men drinking and three or four families, all with small children. That meant that Louis wasn’t going to get recognized, which was a very good thing.

“What would you like to eat?” Louis asked as I looked at the menu that way lying in the middle of the table.

“Well, it’s a pub, which means that there is probably good food here, so fish and chips, because those things are terrible in America.”

“And to drink?” he asked.

“Uhhhh, water?”

“Wanna beer or anything?” he questioned in a dead serious manner and I gave him and ‘are you shitting me?’ look.

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

I pointed at my stomach in response.

“Oh yeah, you’re pregnant aren’t you? I keep forgetting.”

“How?” I asked. “It’s pretty obvious that I’m pregnant, and they’re your kids.”