"I'll take it."
"Don't you want to look at others?" Charm asks. "Make sure?"
"I'm sure." I turn the ring in my fingers, watching the emerald catch the light. "This is the one. I knew it the second I saw it."
"Just like you knew with Ingrid," Charm says softly.
"Just like I knew with Ingrid."
Eleanor boxes the ring while I pay.
Charm cries the entire time.
Happy tears, she assures me.
The happiest tears she's cried in years.
When we walk out of the store, ring box burning a hole in my pocket, she pulls me into another hug.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"For what?"
"For loving her. For seeing her when she couldn't see herself. For being patient enough to wait until she was ready." She pulls back, wipes her eyes. "She's my baby. My youngest. And she's been hurting for so long. To see her finally happy—finally loved the way she deserves—it means everything."
"She means everything. To me."
"I know." She pats my cheek. "Now go. You have an apartment to see and a proposal to make. And Gunnar?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't wait too long. Life's too short for waiting."
"I know. I learned that the hard way."
Ingrid's practically vibrating with excitement when I pick her up.
"I can't believe we're actually doing this," she says, climbing into my truck. "Our own place. A real house. Not a room at the clubhouse, not a space in someone else's house—ours."
"Ours," I agree.
The ring box is in my pocket.
Heavy.
Present.
A constant reminder of what I'm about to do.
She doesn't notice my nerves.
Too busy talking about paint colors and furniture and whether we should get a sectional or two separate couches.
I let her talk.
Let her excitement wash over me.
Let myself imagine this future she's building with her words.
