Page 95 of On the Line

He kisses the top of my head again—the affectionate gesture he does almost without thinking about it now—then says, “But when—”

“I’m also thinking that it’s time we both added another tattoo.”

He stiffens a bit behind me. “Oh yeah, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we add the Roman numerals for next year.”

He dips his head down toward mine so his voice is low in my ear. “What’s happening next year?”

“I was thinking that next year, we should get married.”

“Are you ... proposing to me?”

I flip to the last page of the plans in front of us, where the bottom page readsWill you marry me?in a beautiful hand-lettered design that I hired a local graphic artist to create.

“Lauren,” he says, spinning me around to face him. Without me holding them down, I hear the papers roll up on the table behind me. “Are you serious?”

“You told me you’d wait for me as long as I needed you to. You told me you didn’t want to push me. But I’m done taking this slow. I’m ready for this next step with you. And I hope that you’re ready for it too?”

He cups the side of my face in his hand as he leans his forehead against mine. “I have to show you something.”

“Okay,” I say, wondering for a split second if I should be worried that he hasn’t saidyesyet.

He takes a step back, reaches in his back pocket, and pulls out his wallet. Then he slides his finger into it and kneels as he pulls out a ring. “I’ve been carrying this around for months, all the while knowing that the second you told me you were ready to marry me, I’d drop down on one knee. And here I am, finally. I love you, and I love this life we’re building together. There is no one else in this world who I’d want to marry. No one else I’d want to raise two beautiful girls with. No one else I’d want to grow old with. It’s only you, Lauren. It’s always been you.”

My hands are covering my mouth and there are so many tears in my eyes that I’m afraid I’m going to start bawling like a baby. “I didn’t hear you ask me to marry you.”

“Because I didn’t.” He smiles up at me. “You already asked me. This is me, saying yes.”

He rises off his knee and holds the ring out, and when I hold my hand out for him, he slips it on my finger.

“You make me so fucking happy every single day,” he says. “I can’t wait to experience the rest of my life with you.”

“Same.” I laugh as I hold out my finger and examine my new ring while also wondering how it fit into his wallet all this time.

He wraps one arm around my lower back and pulls me to him, and his other hand tilts my chin up to him. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure I deserve you.” I’m about to saySame, again, but his lips descend to mine, and then he’s lifting me and my legs are wrapping around his waist, and he’s kissing me like he’s about to take my clothes off.

Anahemsounds from right outside the open garage door, and we both look over to see Sierra standing there, camera in hand. “I’m supposed to be capturing the proposal, but I feel like this is going somewhere else, and I just wanted to remind you that the garage door is open and you’re in full view of the street.”

It’s true. Jameson pulled into his normal space to the side of the driveway, so it’s a clear view down to the street, where a woman is pushing a baby carriage while her partner walks next to her with their dog on a leash. And they’ve definitely noticed us, so I guess we’re making a good impression on the neighbors.

I blush, and I can tell a deep crimson is staining my neck and cheeks just by how hot I feel. Or maybe it’s the late-July heat. Either way, I drop my legs and Jameson sets me on the ground.

“What are you doing here?” Jameson asks Sierra.

She looks at me. “Lauren needed a photographer.” She holds up her camera, as if to remind him that she and her husband run one of the most successful photography accounts on social media.

“Let’s go inside,” I say. “I can’t wait to see the pictures.”

Jameson grabs the two grocery bags out of his car, then follows Sierra and me into the sunroom, and the minute we step through the door to the kitchen, there is a chorus of surprise and a badly done rendition of “Happy Birthday” sung at an obnoxious volume.

But I’m not looking at our friends and family, I’m looking up at Jameson’s smile as he takes in everyone we love, gathered here to celebrate him, and us. And when they finally stop singing, he says, “Did you all know Lauren was going to propose?”

There’s shock and surprise and excitement rippling through the crowd, because Sierra is the only one I told. Even Audrey didn’t know about the last paper added to the end of her drawings. Then everyone is surrounding us with their congratulations and well wishes and requests to see the ring. And everyone wants to hear how I ended up being the one to propose, but he already got me a ring.

And there’s a moment, a tiny one amid the chaos and excitement, where I think about how I got here. I recognize that it wasn’t an easy path, but it was exactly the one I needed to take. The heartbreak, the tragedy, the lies ... the struggle to get here is what makes this moment—where I feel nothing but unconditional love from this man—even sweeter.

“I love you,” I say, standing on my tiptoes to whisper in Jameson’s ear.

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