“Okay. I’ll ask you then.”
I took the box, pulled out the ring, and slid it onto my finger.
I remember loving it.
“Can I still have the ring?” I asked. “It’s pretty.”
“I guess. But don’t lose it. You’ll need it when I ask again.”
“I won’t.”
Then I skipped off with my friend, and he shouted after me,“I’ll wait for you, Jordan Demetriou.”
He never did ask again.
But God… he’s still here.
Still waiting.
I blink fast, tears brimming and blurring my vision.
I slide the ring onto my pinky, and a small cry slips out of me.
Memories start flashing in my mind, little blips of the past: prom, our first kiss, Super Bowls, vacations, headlines, my dad.
Good.
Bad.
Happy.
Sad.
No matter where I was or what was happening, Matt was always there—standing quietly in the background, ready to catch me when I fell.
Another cry bursts out of me.
I don’t know what’s come over me, but suddenly I’ve never felt more loved in my entire life.
By anyone.
I didn’t get an engagement. I didn’t get the wedding I always dreamed of.
But holy shit—I’m married to Matthew Grayson.
And I’m so damn lucky to call him mine.
I leave the ring on my pinky and pack everything else back into the box. I carry it to my closet, tip it onto the top shelf, then grab a suitcase.
I start packing, beginning with everything I love and use most. Once it’s full, I dump the two boxes of winter clothes onto my bed and pack a bunch of bathroom and kitchen stuff into them.
I don’t need any of it. I know Matt would buy me anything I want.
But this isn’t about that.
This is aboutme. Andhim.
And finally being brave enough to say,Fuck it.I’m doing this.
