He extends a hand, palm up, on the center console, and waits for me to accept the invitation. When my palm hits his, he thumbs the ring on my fourth finger before bringing it to his lips.
“Do you like your ring, Wifey?”
That’s weird. And doesn’t answer my question in the least. I look down at it, my delicate hand in his larger, stronger one. “It’s more beautiful than any I’ve ever seen. If I could’ve chosen any ring for myself, it wouldn’t have even been on my dream list because I didn’t know beauty like this could exist.”
“And you like wearing it?”
“That goes without saying.”
“Well, I needed to make sure you could wear it…For as long as we both shall live.”
“Oh-kay. You saw a preacher?”
“I went to ask your dad for his blessing to marry you.”
All my senses tunnel as if I might black out. “You what?” The words are a choked whisper.
“You’re my wife, and I’m your husband. I plan on it staying that way, but I don’t want to be hidden away from your family, and you shouldn’t have to keep me a secret.”
“You asked his permission to marry me?”
“No, baby. I only need your permission. But I wanted his blessing. And we need a real wedding. One your mom and dad can be a part of. One that Strider and Sam can witness. One that has you in a white dress committing publicly that you’re mine.I’m already yours. Tacos and tees will always be our anniversary, but you deserve it all. I won’t take that from you. I won’t take it from your dad who wants the honor of giving you away.”
I’m… speechless. He thought of that? Of me? Of them?
“You flew to Peoria.”
He just nods. Nods, as if that’s normal.
“What did he say?” My voice is low, choked.
“He said Strider had already told him about me. Your brother had mentioned you were happy, and he was curious what man caught your eye.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“He said yes, Wifey.”
I’m shocked. A man he’s never met, one I never told him about, shows up on his doorstep, and he said yes? “That’s it?”
“No. But it’s the most important.”
I’m so curious. Why didn’t he come with the play-by-play?
“And you met my mom?”
He turns his head my way as we merge onto I-25. “I did. She’s wonderful. She had a bunch of cookies and made a pot of coffee.”
How long was he there? What in tarnation is happening?
“She’s a great baker.” I add.
“She is. And she’s ready to come for a visit.”
“I, uh. How will we do that?”
“We’ll figure it out, baby. And we’ll have notice.”
“I miss them.”
