Liz's face drains of color as understanding dawns on her, her hands gripping the table edge.
I drop to one knee and reach for her left hand. Her fingers are ice-cold despite the heat. I've held it hundreds of times. Pulled her through crowds, steadied her on trails, helped her up.
Never like this.
Never with my grandmother's ring and a proposal I can't take back.
Her lips part, and my breath stutters in my chest because I've wondered what she'd taste like, how she'd sound if I kissed her the way I want to. For real. Now I'm on my knees in front of her with my grandmother's ring.
"Liz, I know we said we'd wait. Keep this quiet until the timing is perfect. But I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."
No lie. That's the complete truth. Pretending you just want to be friends when you're in love is exhausting.
"You're brilliant. You make me laugh when I'm having the worst day. You're the person I want to call when something good or bad happens. The person I think about at three AM in some godforsaken airport."
More truth.
"I don't want to wait anymore. Will you marry me?"
Her tears well. As to why, I have no idea. Those tears surprise me. But they sure as hell serve this lie better. "Y-yes. Yes, Dean. I'll m-marry you."
My heart pounds like a fist on a drum as I slide the ring onto her finger, stand to my full height, and pull her to her feet.
She crashes into me, and I bury my face in her hair, breathing her in, committing this moment to memory because it may be all I have.
"Trust me, Liz."
"Always."
Rochelle raises her glass. "To Dean and Liz! Welcome to the family, Dean."
Maura forces a smile because she surely never expected the sudden turn of events. "Congratulations. Though you chose an ... interesting time."
I don't take the bait because she put her own sister on the spot when it should've been a time for celebration. Her celebration, so, ignoring her, I move my response back to our ebbs and flows, "When you know, you know. Hate to cut this short, but we need a minute. Engagement adrenaline."
My hand moves to Liz's lower back. Out of earshot, she whispers, "Beach?"
"Beach."
That's us. When overwhelmed, we walk.
What do I say?
'Sorry, I proposed with minimal warning. Sorry, I've wanted to marry you since we were twenty, just not like this?'
"Dean, your grandmother's ring."
"Yeah."
"The ring she gave you for your future wife."
"Yeah."
"You just put it on my finger in front of my mother, my sister, and seven strangers."
"I did."
"Why?"
