I reach into the glove box, pull out something wrapped in brown paper, and hand it to her without a word.
Blue eyes lift to mine. “For me?”
I nod. “Open it.”
She does. Inside is avintage keychain. Chrome and soft leather, worn with time. The tag reads:Drive slow. Stay wild.
Her breath catches.
“I found it at a swap meet last week,” I say. “Made me think of you.”
“You mean the part where I’m wild?”
I lean in, brushing her mouth with mine. “I mean the part where I’m lucky enough to keep up.”
She kisses me right there in the driver’s seat, with the trees rustling above us. Her fingers grasp my shirt like she plans never to let go.
When we finally pull apart, I exhale slowly. “There’s more.”
Her eyebrows lift. “More than the perfect keychain?”
I shift nervously. “I’ve been thinking. About building something more permanent.”
A breathless sound escapes her.
I’ve been carrying the ring around for three weeks.
Not in a velvet box, but loose in my pocket, wrapped in a square of cloth. Today it feels right, parked at the creek, just us and the car that started it all.
I reach into my pocket, heart pounding like I’m sixteen again, pulling a wrench for the first time and hoping I don’t strip the bolt.
I don’t get out of the car and drop to one knee. I don’t have to. She already has me, and we both know it.
I take her hand. “I’ve never been the guy who plans big speeches,” I say wryly. “But I know when something’s right. I knew it the day you rolled that beat-up Mustang into my life.”
Her eyes shimmer like the creek beside us as she looks at me.
“You were all light and hope and wild ideas,” I continue. “And I was… a mess. I thought you’d break apart on all my hard edges. But you didn’t flinch. You simply wrapped yourself around them and made them yours. You saw me. And you stayed.”
I open the cloth in my palm. The ring is simple. A classic solitaire, delicate, strong. Like her.
She stops breathing. Eyes huge, lips parted.
“Every good thing in my life starts with you, Sally Hargrave.”
She’s crying now, soft and silent.
“Marry me,” I whisper. “Make me the luckiest damn man alive.”
She doesn’t answer with words. She leans across the console, cupping my face in both hands, and kisses me like her yes has been waiting to burst free.
“I take it that’s a yes,” I ask when we finally break apart.
She’s laughing through her tears. “That’s ahell, yes.Took you long enough, Garage Daddy.”
I groan. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
Grabbing the ring, she slides it onto her finger. “Too late. I already said yes.”
