I didn’t need her to tell me that, of course. I knew. I was present in the last six years of my life. But still ...
From behind my back, I heard Grant’s and Ambrose Casablancas’s voices bouncing across the ceiling in an echo. They were chatting. It took me half a second to decide that I was not supposed to have seen this article and shove it into his messenger bag. I scurried back to my seat and was pretending to mess with my phone when Grant walked inside from the cold. He rubbed his palms together, blowing hot air into them.
“Sorry, I went outside to check on our carriage ride. Don’t worry, it’s gonna be a short one, and I brought a thermos with hot coffee and some blankets. Is that okay?”
I smiled, trying to hide the tears in my eyes. “Yes. It’s perfect. Thank you so much.”
He gave me a loopy, questioning smile, as if to ask,What’s with you?
We bundled up and went into the kitchen to thank Row, who must’ve reentered the building through another door. He was yelling at his staff. I knew he was a grumpy asshat from watching him on TV, but it felt entirely different when you witnessed his antipathy in real time.
From there, we went out to the freezing cold. There really was a carriage waiting for us, and it had a coachman too.
I was glad there wouldn’t be a thousand dishes and interruptions, and that we were finally alone.
Once tucked inside, Grant turned to me.
“Did you get a chance to readGlossthis week?” His face was etched with worry. I now realized why he’d seemed on edge all day yesterday and today when he got back from work. He didn’t know whether to interpret my silence as rejection. Or at the very least, as something that wasn’t a straight-up yes.
“Not yet.” I blinked in what I hoped to God was innocence. “Georgie had a busy day pooping his life away yesterday, and my parents arrived today, so I had to show them the ropes. I didn’t get time. Why, was there something scandalous?” I wiggled my eyebrows.
Wow, I was good. One day, after we were married, I was going to tell him the truth. He’d get a kick out of it too.
“Yes, I think there was something worth reading there. I brought a copy.” He tugged the magazine out of his bag. I made a show out of flipping through the pages and reading the column.
I read his proposal again, and it made me even more emotional than the first time.
He was just so ...good.
I never thought I’d find someone like that. Someone who loved with his entire body, heart, and soul. Somebody trustworthy and completely transparent, someone who wouldn’t use his female partner as an emotional crutch.
My chin quivered again. Finally, I let my tears fall.
Because I could. Because I knew he would never judge me. Not this man.
This man would accept me in any size. My smallest or largest.
He would celebrate my wins, and grieve my losses with me.
He would accept my boundaries and stay faithful to me, not only out of respect for me, but out of respect for himself.
I looked up from the magazine. I could tell by the hungry, crushed way he looked at me that he was holding his breath.
“Yes,” I inhaled. “Yes, Grant Gerwig. I will marry you. I will marry the fuck out of you.” Hot tears slid down my cold cheeks. “There isn’t a world or a scenario where marrying you isn’t my absolute top priority.”
He reached into his messenger bag again and pulled out something I must’ve missed during my scavenger hunt. A blue velvety jewelry box. I popped it open. It had a huge green emerald, with small diamonds engraved around it.
Green like my hair when he’d met me.
“Hello, fiancée,” he whispered as he slid the ring onto my finger.
“Right back at you.”
We kissed then. Stealing each other’s breaths, and words, and taste. Drowning in what had started as an accident but had fast become the greatest gift of all. Passing between us the sweetness of the residual sugar from the dessert, the bitter bite of the sage in our food, the saltiness of my tears.
And I knew that inside that kiss hid a whole different world we were about to unlock together.
When we finally came up for air, I laughed breathlessly into his chest, burrowing into his warmth. The carriage came to a stop. The horse attached to it made a huffing sound.
“What’s so funny?” Grant nuzzled the side of my neck.
“I just can’t believe I got my happy ending because this time last year, I was petty in pink. It’s so me.”
“You were never petty.” Grant brushed my hair away from my face. “You were concerned and worried for your colleague. You chose to embarrass yourself and do something drastic to protect someone else. I think it was the night I realized I truly loved you.”
And, like always, I believed him.
