What if I was about to make a complete fool of myself in front of my daughter and a mariachi band?
Yes, there was an actual mariachi band waiting for us. Don’t judge. Jeremiah loved Taco Tuesdays.
“Daddy, you’re making the panic face, and your hands are twitching worse than the pasta stirrer.”
I took a deep breath, trying to channel some of Debbie’s unshakeable optimism and ignoring her reference to the unmentionable that brought us all together. “You’re right, Button. Willie Wee loves us. This is going to be perfect.”
In the car, Debbie chattered excitedly about her role in the proposal—she was, according to her detailed planning, going to be my “assistant” and make sure everything went according to plan. She’d even practiced her lines.
“Remember, when Willie Wee looks confused, I’m supposed to say, ‘Open it, dummy,’ in my sassiest voice,” she recited. “But not the really bad words you’re not supposed to say, just the fun ones.”
“That’s right. And what do you do if he starts crying?”
“Give him my sparkly tissues!” She patted the tiny purse slung over her shoulder, which contained a pack of tissues she’d decorated with glitter and unicorn stickers specifically for this occasion.
We found Jeremiah already seated on our bench, the same one where we’d had our first real conversation about Debbie’s adoption, where he’d held my hand and promised to be there no matter what. He was wearing jeans and a green T-shirt, and he looked so perfectly, completely himself that my heart did that fluttery thing it had been doing since the day I met him.
“There’s my favorite girl,” he said, standing to give us both hugs.
Debbie launched herself at him with typical enthusiasm, while I tried to act natural despite the fact that I was pretty sure I was sweating through my carefully chosen shirt.
“Willie Wee, do you like my tiara? The dragon is new!”
“It’s magnificent, princess. You look amazing.”
“Daddy picked it out special for today because today is special and we’re going somewhere special to do special things.”
Jeremiah’s eyebrows rose slightly. “Special things?”
“Just, you know, regular park stuff. Mateo’s wedding sort of cemented the park as a ‘special place’ in her mind,” I said quickly, totally making shit up on the fly. “Why don’t we take a walk, get some of her energy out before lunch. She’s been wound up all day.”
We started walking, Debbie skipping between us and chattering about everything she saw—squirrels that looked suspicious, clouds that were shaped like various animals, a jogger whose bright pink outfit reminded her of flamingos. His “beak” flopped so wildly in his silky shorts I had to grab her pointing finger and speed past him to avoid a very uncomfortable moment.
We passed by the softball fields, and the botanical gardens came into view.
I felt my heart rate spike even higher.
Spring had been good to Atlanta this year. Trees and flowers, ordinarily a highlight in the city’s preeminent garden, were even more lush and colorful than I’d remembered.
The wedding arch was exactly where it was supposed to be, decorated with spring blooms of the deepest reds, yellows, and golds. The mariachi band was set up off to the side, playing something soft and romantic.
“Huh,” Jeremiah said, looking around. “There’s music. Are we having tacos later?”
Debbie giggled. “Willie Wee, you’re so silly. Mariachi bands don’t always mean tacos.”
“They don’t? Then what’s the point? Weren’t they invented as a sort of Mexican dinner bell?”
I had to smother a laugh. Debbie couldn’t hold back.
“They mean—” Debbie started, then caught my warning look. “They mean . . . music. For listening to and helping flowers grow.”
Jeremiah was looking around with growing curiosity, clearly trying to figure out why we’d wandered into what appeared to be a very elaborate coincidence. The gardens were mostly empty except for the musicians and us—and the late morning light filtering through the trees that made everything shimmer like something out of a romantic movie.
Now I just had to find the courage to speak words my heart had been screaming for months.
“Should we sit down for a minute?” I suggested, gesturing toward a bench near the flower arch. “Maybe let Debbie run around a bit?”
“Sure, but—”
