I quirk both brows. "What might you have done?"
"This is embarrassing." She shields her eyes with both hands. "I started a blog."
"You what?"
"I started a blog about falling in love." She peeks out from between her splayed fingers. "All these women had these dating blogs and I'd read them. They were filled with so much doom and gloom."
"So you wanted to rewrite their stories?" I ask, mild confusion etching my words.
"No." She drops her hands. "I wanted to writemystory. It was cathartic and helpful, and every night after I worked on my designs, I'd log on and write a post about that day.
"About us that day?"
"Sometimes." Her gaze drops to her stomach. "The blog has two parts. Past and present."
"Your past relationships and your present one?" I tap my forehead. "I think I'm catching on."
"The past was mostly about growing up and the dreams I had about falling in love. That's my past. The experiences I had pre-him."
"Him? Me?"
"Yes." She smiles. "My present is our story now. I've written about my heart on that blog. Finding you, loving you, discovering forever."
"You'll show it to me?"
"It was meant for only you." She reaches to the side table to grab her phone. "I was going to show it to you on our wedding night. I thought it was set to private, but I was wrong. A woman posted excerpts of it on her Pinterest account."
"Seriously?" His grin flashes.
"She linked back to my blog and traffic went through the roof. I've made it private since the publisher contacted me. They don't know it's me, by the way. I've never used my real name on the blog, or your name."
My eyes scan her phone's screen and the simple pink blog filled with words written from her heart. "They want to publish the content of this blog?"
"They do." She laughs. "When they sent me an email through the blog they said it was inspirational and a testament to a modern love story."
Our love story. "I'm going to read every word of this."
"For now, I want you to read the last post. I did that one earlier today."
I hand her the phone so that she can pull up the post. I start reading the moment she hands it back to me.
Him. He's the dream we all have at night when our heart is still empty. I wanted a forever love and always imagined when I found it that it would mirror what I saw in the kitchen of my parents' home when they were making Sunday dinners for the family. I thought I saw true love in my granddad's tears when he kissed my grandma's coffin before they lowered her into the ground.
Love with him is different.
It's grilled cheese sandwiches and piano sonnets.
It's broad shoulders, black hair, and an incredible mind.
It's trust, broken and then rebuilt.
It's tomorrow and a new life.
I'm going to ask him to marry me today. I don't have a ring. I have a heart. I gave it to him months ago and it's his forever.
P.S. I think he'll say yes.
"Yes," I whisper as I drop the phone on the bed between us. "Yes, Sophia. I will marry you."
