“Yes, in the Bronx. Quick train ride into Manhattan.”
“I guess that’s part of the reason you were so quick to accept this new position?” He arched a brow.
“Not the only reason, but yes. And we’re happy here. Not that I’m saying no for a move in the far future, but for now—”
“I get it,” he said, a chuckle shaking his shoulders. “Enjoy this time. The honeymoon period doesn’t last long, trust me.”
It didn’t seem like a honeymoon period to me. It just seemed…permanent. Like I was where I was supposed to be. I’d spent too much time without Julie, and I wasn’t going to Charlotte or anywhere else without her.
It was the second time an epiphany that seemed so obvious hit me when I wasn’t looking. I wanted to live with my wife, not just stay with her while my stuff was in her spare room. I wanted her to have my last name and my ring on her finger. I wanted to stay in that house with her for the rest of my life if that was where she wanted to be.
The chickenshit phase of my life was finally over, and all I wanted for my birthday, or any other day, was Julie, forever.
I made it through my meetings downtown on autopilot. Closing deals with clients was as easy as breathing to me, almost too easy, as with every meeting, my client base seemed to multiply.
I grabbed lunch at the lower-level mall of my client’s building and meandered around after, people watching as Julie said she liked to do. Couples ate lunch together on the marble steps, while kids surrounded the children’s store kiosk in the middle of the floor. A buzzing in my pocket interrupted my musings, and I glanced at my father’s name on the screen.
“Happy birthday, baby boy.”
I snickered at his immediate greeting.
“Your forty-year-old baby boy, huh?”
“You know you’ll always be baby boy to us.”
My gait slowed at the reference to my mother as if she were still here.
“I suppose. You caught me at a good time. My meetings just ended for the day.”
“You worked on your birthday?”
“You know me, Dad. I don’t make my birthdays a big deal. I told Julie I didn’t want anything, but I got the feeling she was up to something today.”
“I’m sure she is. Let her do it.”
“I am,” I said as I spotted a jewelry store near the building exit. A large engagement ring was spinning in the middle of the display, the square diamond twinkling under all the different light angles.
“Are you going to let us take you out to dinner next week? I’ll try not to mention anything about milestone birthdays.”
“Yes, that’s fine,” I said as I stepped closer to the window. “Can you bring something for me?”
“Sure, what?”
“You still have Mom’s engagement ring, right?”
“I do,” he said slowly. “Are you asking me because of why I think you’re asking me?”
“I am. I know it’s a little backward.”
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle. “But who cares? I remember that you didn’t ask for it the last time.”
I shook my head at my reflection in the glass.
“No, I didn’t.”
When I’d asked Shayla to marry me, I’d brought her to the local jewelry store to pick out a ring. She’d always hinted at how pretty her friends’ princess cut or emerald-shaped rings were, and I didn’t want to get her anything that she didn’t like, knowing how particular she was. My mother’s ring had never even crossed my mind. Maybe even then I’d known Shayla wasn’t the one, the one I wanted to give my past, present, and every bit of future to—because I already was giving it to Julie without ever realizing it.
“I want to ask my wife to marry me. And I want to do it with Mom’s ring. If it’s okay with you.”
