Chapter Eighteen - The Proposal That Wasn't Perfect

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The Proposal That Wasn't Perfect

I HAD A plan.
And like most plans, it didn’t survive contact with the universe.

I had the spot picked out. Her favorite park, that weird hill with the broken bench where we watched the stars that one night and accidentally spilled hot chocolate on each other.
I had the speech.
I had the ring.

And I had the nerves. Oh, the nerves.

It was supposed to be sunset.
It ended up raining.

She was already annoyed because her hair got frizzy, we’d both forgotten umbrellas, and some guy was playing bagpipes off-key near our “romantic” spot.

She looked at me like, “Really? This was your idea?”

And I almost bailed.
Almost said, You know what, let’s just go home. I’ll do this right another day.
But then she laughed.

A real one.

At herself. At the chaos. At the fact that her shoes were soaked and her eyeliner was smudged and the moment was absolutely not Pinterest-ready.

And I realized.
This is it.

This is the person I want to propose to.

The one who makes a disaster feel like a memory.
The one who turns disappointment into comedy.
The one who’d say yes because it wasn’t perfect.

So I dropped to one knee.

Right there. In the mud.
Jeans soaked. No crowd. No string quartet.

Just me.

And I said something like:

“I had a speech.
I don’t remember it.
All I know is that there’s no version of this life I want that doesn’t have you in it.
Even when it’s raining.
Especially then.”

She blinked.

Covered her face.

Started crying.
(And cussing. “You idiot. You fucking idiot.” Which I took as a yes.)

And then she said, “Put the damn ring on before I change my mind.”

So I did.

Hands shaking. Heart wide open.
No photos.
Just the sound of two souls saying:

Let’s do the hard, weird, beautiful forever thing.