We wave back, laughing quietly as the boats glide past.
Natalia’s husband, Officer Garcia, had offered earlier for Aiden and me to join them aboard one of the Coast Guard vessels. But honestly, I didn’t know if Aiden would be ready to go out into the ocean yet, so I thought we might enjoy watching it from shore instead.
Standing here now, with the ocean spread out before us, Aiden beside me, and our dogs racing happily through the grass, I realize I made the right decision.
Aiden slips his arm around my waist as the boats position themselves in a wide circle out on the water.
A moment later, the unmistakable sound of a Coast Guard search and rescue helicopter echoes overhead.
The aircraft sweeps over the town first, circling once while cheers erupt from the crowds lining the bridge and shoreline.
Then it turns and heads straight toward the harbor.
As it approaches us again, the door is wide open.
Finn is standing inside.
Even from this distance, I can see the enormous grin on his face as he spots us. He lifts a hand and waves.
We wave back, laughing as the helicopter moves into position above the center of the circle formed by the boats.
When it steadies itself above the water, Finn—wearing his bright orange rescue suit and flippers—moves to the open doorway. A large wreath of flowers rests over his shoulder.
Slowly, the cable lowers him toward the ocean.
Everyone watches in silence.
When his feet finally touch the surface of the water, he gently releases the wreath into the center of the circle. One by one, theboats surrounding him begin dropping their own flowers into the ocean until the water is covered in drifting petals.
It’s a beautiful ceremony.
Standing here, watching it unfold from this quiet, hidden place, I feel something tighten in my chest.
I turn toward Aiden.
“I thought I lost you before I even had the chance to love you.”
He looks at me immediately, surprise flickering across his face as his hands settle on my arms.
“You love me?” he asks.
I smile and nod.
“I love you,” I say softly. “So much.”
He just looks at me, a slow smile forming on his face.
“Well,” he says, a little smirk appearing on his face, “I’m glad you do… because I have something to ask you.”
My heart stutters as he reaches into his pocket.
When he pulls his hand out, there’s a ring resting in his palm.
The sight of it makes my breath catch.
It’s my grandmother’s ring.
The rose-gold band curves delicately around a pear-shaped ruby, the deep color of red wine, its surface catching the sunlight and glowing warmly against the metal. Small diamonds curl along the sides of the setting in intricate, almost vine-like patterns. I’ve always admired it, because it’s both delicate and powerful.
