You could cut the tension with a knife. A knife quite similar to the carving one that was currently in my hand. Everyone was walking on eggshells and it was all because Isaac got my hopes up and then cruelly dashed them on what was going to be the most amazing date of my whole entire life. 

Honestly, that man is lucky he's breathing. I was all for opening the capsule door and throwing him from the peak of the London Eye. Luckily, for him, all I did was relegate him to one of the spare rooms. And that's where he's stayed since. He'll probably stay there for the foreseeable future, too. In the meantime, we were about to have the most awkward family dinner ever, in the presence of my sisters, potential sister-in-law, my brother and brother-in-laws, my parents, daughters, and niece. 

"If you keep sharpening that knife, there won't be anything left of it," Daniel noted as he came into the kitchen and placed two mugs in the overflowing sink. Noticing that there wasn't much room left for the tiny plate he held, Daniel frowned and started to load the dishwasher, all the while, watching me from the corner of his eye. "He told us, you know. Not in the gossiping kind of way, if that's what you're thinking. He needed a sounding board."

I nod. "Well, good for him."

"Charlotte, you have to understand," Daniel continued, careful with the words that come out of his mouth. He looks over his shoulder and lowers his voice to a whisper. "He didn't mean to-"

"Hurt me? Humiliate me? Leave me hanging?" I suggest, the tone of my voice clipped. Wielding the knife in Daniel's direction, I continue. "Don't you dare make excuses for him. He knew exactly what he was doing. Now, piss off out of the kitchen before I kill you, dismember you and cook you as part of Sunday dinner."

Heeding my words of warning, Daniel quickly threw a dishwasher tablet into the machine, pressed the settings and then ran like his life depended on it. When I finally had the kitchen back to myself, I went back to sharpening the knife. Realising that what Daniel said was true- about the knife, that is- I placed it on the counter and started pottering around for something else to do. I couldn't socialise because everyone, including Isaac, was in the family room, playing games and having quality, family time together. Dinner wouldn't be ready for another hour or two, either, since Mum decided that slow cooking dinner was the best thing ever. 

Looking through some of the cupboards in the kitchen, I found ingredients that I could use to make dessert and soon started creating something that everyone would like. As I measured carefully, my mind started to detour back into the darkness, wondering why on earth hadn't Isaac proposed. 

Surely, it shouldn't be complicated. 

"Jeez, Charlotte Louise," Martha's voice sang out, her soft footsteps entering the kitchen and making their way to me. "Did the eggs piss you off?"

Looking down into the bowl, I see that the egg whites were forming perfectly to create my meringues. "It's what they're supposed to do," I tell Martha. "I'm making meringues."

"If that's what you say," she laughs. Pouring herself a cup of orange juice, she jumps up to sit on the counter, watching me with interest. "So, egg whites and sugar, huh? Who knew that two simple things would make something so beautiful. It's like a perfect marriage of ingredients. Look, Charlotte, I know he's my father and all, but I low-key agree that what he did to you was shitty. And by 'low-key', what I mean is that I've already had several words with him and only a handful was polite. That said," she continued, elongating her speech. "You're giving him serious mixed signals, girl. Let's examine the evidence."

I grumble, "Let's not." 

"Ok, you bailed on him after your one night stand," Martha begins. From the way her shoulders roll back, I can guess that she has a lot of ammunition in her arsenal, although I don't want to know how she's au fait with all this. Then again, too many people are familiar with mine and Isaac's relationship. The only people who won't know about any of it are Cubans and Slovakians. "Then you start giving him signals that you're kinda interested but of course, that's not enough for him. He doesn't work with signals. He needs assurances. But then you give him one and you start your relationship and everything is great."

I can see what Martha is about to do- draw parallels between me wanting and not wanting to be in a relationship, and me wanting and not wanting to get married. It was an easy comparison to make except for the tiny difference that these two things are nothing alike. 

"Then you find out that he has a huge, fucking ginormous ring and suddenly you start dropping hints that maybe being Mrs Fletcher wouldn't be so bad," I hear Martha say. Her face isn't as relaxed as it was and her words start to come out harsher than she probably intended. So much for low-key agreeing with me. I feel as if I'm on the receiving end of some hostility. "But when he doesn't propose because he's respecting your wishes that you don't want to get married because Sera is enough of a commitment for you, you get pissed off with him? No, not happening on my watch, alright.

"I don't think you truly appreciate just how much courage it takes for my dad just to be with you," Martha sighs heavily. "You're the first person he's let in since my mum and you... you're... alright, he fucked with your head once but you fuck with his head every day. If you want to marry him, tell him. He can't read your mind. If you tell him, he'll ask. I promise."

Once she had said all she needed to say, Martha jumped down from the counter and strolled back into the family room where I heard her announce that Dad had been cheating while playing Monopoly. Still, her words were food for thought. 

My grandmother- the French one- had always said I reminded her of my aunt Jeanne because we were both selfish and oblivious to other people's needs. It was half the reason my cousins, Louis and Laure, are as they are- total arseholes that no one else likes. At this point in time, I'm under no illusion that they both think exactly the same as me. 

To that end, I probably am selfish, oblivious and an arsehole. 

There was no denying that Martha was right; I did give Isaac mixed signals about everything, ever since we met, I've been stringing him along, wanting everything on my terms and never on his. When we met, over a year ago by now, Isaac was very forward but I was reluctant to start anything. I was just getting over Brogan and wasn't really interested in pursuing another relationship but with enough playing hard to get, Isaac's interest remained one me. 

Then New Year's Eve, he was clear about what he wanted and I, again, strung him along. I used and abused him, casting him aside until I was finally on the same page as him. He was ever the gentleman and patiently waited, never holding it against me and prepared to co-parent Sera if that's what I wanted. 

I was adamant that I didn't want to get married, much to Isaac's dismay. Still, he didn't push me on it but when the idea went from simply being discussed to almost becoming a reality, I found myself maybe wanting to get married after all. Would becoming Mrs Fletcher really be bad? 

No, I decided. 

"Knock, knock," a deep, accented voice echoed from behind me. Isaac waited a few seconds and then proceeded to walk further into the kitchen, his head bowed and piercing blue eyes looking up at me from under his dark eyelashes. Coming to my side, he picked up a spare spoon and dished out some of the meringue mix onto the baking parchment, mimicking what I was doing. When we were both finished and the baking trays were in the oven, Isaac circled his hand around my wrist and pinned me against the counter, pressing his forehead against mine. "I love you, Charlotte."

I gulp, my breathing becoming erratic as his presence before me starts to mess with my head. This is why he's been relegated to another bedroom. "Isaac-"

"Do you want to marry me?" He suddenly asks, stepping away from me. He looks vulnerable, his eyes trained on the ground as his shoulders fold inwards towards his body. "I'm not asking you to marry me, I just want to know if that is something that you might, you know... be receptive to?"

"Isaac," I whisper, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him towards me, twisting our bodies so that he's now the one pinned against the kitchen counter. His eyes snap to mine, surprise held within them, while his mouth hangs open slightly. "I don't tell you enough but I love you, too. Some days, I am terrified that I love you too much and that makes me a very, very, very selfish bitch. I only think of myself but that is no way to be in a relationship. Isaac, I want to be with you always and if you were to ask me to marry you, I'd consider myself the luckiest girl in the whole world. No, the whole universe."

He gulps. "But would you say yes?" I nod emphatically and smile, which makes Isaac beam, his eyes lighting up like never before. He wasn't even this happy when he first held Sera. "Then I guess I should probably plan something, huh? Can't exactly do the London Eye again."

"No," I frowned, not quite forgiving him for his actions last weekend. "A proposal doesn't need to be big and bold. Look at Sophie and Daniel. She proposed to him after he sprung her from jail. All it needs to be is perfect for us."

He winked at me and leaned forward, locking his lips against mine. The kiss wasn't a foot-popping inducing but it was sweet and it was soft and it was a sign that we were back on track. Almost. We still had things to work on, like communication and sleeping arrangements, but at least we knew our weaknesses and were willing to work on them. 

"Can I move back into our bedroom now?" Isaac asks. When I nod, he gives a low chuckle and nips at my lips again. "Good. I missed my pillows. Oh, and I missed you, of course. For the record, though, I don't think you're a selfish bitch at all. Even if you were, you'd be my selfish bitch. No one else's."

Are we happier now that Isaac and Charlotte have had the talk?

Was Martha out of line with what she said to Charlotte?

Is the French grandmother right- is Charlotte selfish?

What would be the perfect proposal scenario for Isaac and Charlotte?

Who is ready for some Fletcher Family time?

I've only today realised that we've gone an entire year (almost) without a ship name for Isaac and Charlotte! 

On Wednesday, I'll be posting some info about a possible One Shot competition. Anyone interested?

See you then!