Hapless by Therese Woodson Read Free Book Online Page A

chuckles, “this is why you’ve been so weird. The dinner at Jack’s and the carriage ride and the hockey game. Please tell me you tried at the hockey game.”
    Ty nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah.”
    “Oh my God,” Micah said, hand over his mouth. He looked positively gleeful. “You are awful at this, aren’t you? You are completely hapless.”
    “Hey! At least I didn’t go for Christmas Eve. What are you, Dial-a-Cliché?”
    “Oh, and a woman choking and a cat-fur blanket were any better?”
    Okay, so Micah had him there. “At least I was inventive! And romantic. I tried to be romantic.”
    “And this isn’t romantic?” Micah said, gesturing toward the puddles of cider saturating the carpet, Grandma’s afghan in a heap, “Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer” blaring on the radio.
    Ty made a face.
    “Fine,” Micah said, acquiescing. “I went tried and true. It worked, didn’t it?”
    And then they both stuttered to a stop because it hadn’t worked. Ty knelt on the carpet. Micah stood above him. They both had rings in their hands, and neither one had said yes and neither one had really even asked.
    Micah looked between his own box and Ty’s, nose adorably scrunched.
    “We’re a mess,” he said, sinking to his knees. The squish when he made contact with the carpet didn’t help matters at all, but was forgivable, especially when Micah’s expression was open and honest, his eyes very blue, his hair a mess. Everything Ty had fallen in love with was right there in Micah’s mismatched socks and his heart on his sleeve.
    “I love you,” Ty said. “I love you. I love you so much it scares me. It fills me up and makes me a better person, and fuck, it hurts sometimes. But it’s the best I’ve ever felt.” Ty took a breath. “Micah Alan Vandermeer, will you marry me?”
    “Yes.”
    Ty huffed a laugh. Lightheaded and heart pounding, his hands shook as he slid the ring on Micah’s finger.
    “My turn,” Micah said, taking Ty’s hands and threading their fingers. “Tyler Patrick Thompson, you are annoying and perfect, and I’m so glad you asked me for my number that day in the student center. I can’t imagine my life without you and your perfectionism and your smile and your random-ass thoughts and your happiness. Please marry me.”
    “Yes.”
    The ring Micah slid on his finger was cool to the touch, and without realizing it, they had both picked wide silver bands, though with different designs.
    Ty admired it, overcome with affection.
    “Now,” he said, “we have to take one of those pictures where we show off our rings, but it looks like we’re flicking off the camera.”
    Micah snorted. “Winnie would love that.”
    “By the way, she’s going to be our maid of honor. I kind of promised.”
    “Figures she would weasel her way into our wedding somehow.”
    Ty laughed. He rubbed a hand over his face, the edge of the ring catching on his lip. He was engaged. Fuck, he was engaged. Finally. The relief of it washed over him, and he sank all the way to the floor. He starfished on the carpet, not caring about the cider or the afghan, and relaxed.
    If it weren’t for Micah crawling over top of him, Ty was sure he could float away. But Micah’s knees bracketed Ty’s hips and his chest was pressed close, his elbows planted right by Ty’s shoulders.
    “You are entirely too cute.”
    “That’s my line.”
    “No,” Micah said, lips a breath away from the skin of Ty’s jaw. “It’s my line today. I can’t believe you tried so many times because you wanted it to be perfect. Who does that?”
    “A fucking asshole, apparently.”
    “Nah, a guy who maybe put too much thought into the how and kind of forgot about the who and the why. But I’ll forgive him because he tried.”
    “That’s why I’m marrying you.” And the words felt good in Ty’s mouth, the shape of them comforting and wonderful. “Because you put up with my bad logic.”
    Humming, Micah leaned forward and