Page 19 of Trading Up
It all still felt like a dream when I woke up. Even after our shower fun, it still didn’t feel real that she was mine. That I could call her mine, and tell everyone. I knew, in my mind and my heart, there was no way I was going to wait. I’d loved her for years, and I knew she was my person. I knew she’d just gotten out of one long-term relationship, but in all the conversations we had over the last few months while she was going through her divorce, she said she didn’t want to ever waste time on someone who wouldn’t stick around. Not with the boys. I had a feeling she was hinting at me again, like she was all those years ago. This time, though, I was going to listen.
I wasn’t going to wait.
I started looking for the perfect ring for her. One that captured everything about her. I had been looking for years before Will-But-Wouldn’t came into the picture, but the rings had come so far since then. I knew I wanted the best for both of us, and I wanted them to match. If hers had a pattern or design to it, I wanted it engraved on my ring. I wanted our rings to fit together like we did. I didn’t give a damn how corny it was. I was head over heels for my girl.
I was browsing online when I saw an ad for a lab-grown diamond. I clicked on the link, and it was a local jewelry store. I was floored when I saw all of the different options. The band was twisted gold, with a 1.5-carat oval diamond in the center, and a halo matching wedding band. It was beautiful, dainty, yet brilliant, exactly like Sarah. I asked if there was a way to make a matching man’s band for the set, letting them know my budget.It was a few hours before I got an email back from the company. All three rings could be ready for pickup in two weeks.
I called my parents, our friends, and some of my staff who had become friends and part-time employees of hers. I invited her mother out, letting her know that I’d be proposing, and if she wished for her husband to be there, to let him know. I called my uncle, who played sax and sang in a local jazz band, to see if he was able to play in Silver Spoon that night. Thankfully, Unc was coming through. I called the flower guy from the early morning market. I asked if he’d be able to have peonies and roses available in two weeks. I needed enough peonies for a small bouquet, and the roses for every table in Silver Spoon.
I picked the date, rented the best table in the house, and reserved tables for our family and any friends who wanted to be there. I was ready. I was just living life, day by day, until the day I picked up the rings and proposed. I loved staying at her place most nights or doing a sleepover at mine. The boys would fall asleep in the living room while I snuck off to have a few hours alone with their mother, then come back to the living room before they woke up. This was a big step for us and for them. Sarah had been working with their therapist to let them work on the idea of us getting married. We weren’t going to do that until they were ready, though. We wanted to wait so they could work through any feelings, positive or negative, they might have about it.
I swear I blinked, and the night was here. We were dressed up a little fancier than usual for dinner tonight. We had told the boys that there was something important I wanted to talk with them about and that I had important things to talk about with their mom. I also let them know that if they didn’t feel comfortable with anything, they could always talk to us. They both nodded, running off to see my parents.
Entering the restaurant, I watched her. I watched as her eyes twinkled over all the roses of all colors. Each table had an assortment of them. Our tables had peonies. Not just enough for a bouquet. There were peonies at every place setting. The table with the most peonies, though, was the sweetheart table I had put together for the two of us. I wanted tonight to be about us, but also about the boys. I planned something special for them. I needed both Carter and Maverick to know I saw them and knew that they were my boys. At the table with our parents, I placed the boys. I had two ‘dinner bags’ set up for them. It had everything they needed. Toys, books, crayons, since their tablecloth was butcher block paper, as well as their favorite juice cups, a crazy straw, and two little tie clips.
Son.
That’s what I had engraved on them. I knew they wouldn’t know it now, but I wanted them to know that, since before they could remember, I had loved them like they were mine. I wanted them to know I thought of them as my sons. Just like Ma thought of me. I knew I wasn’t hers; the skin tone was enough of a clue, but she never treated me differently from my siblings. She treated me as her oldest, her firstborn. After my mom walked out on me, she stepped up in ways she never had. She came to every school event, PTA meeting, parent-teacher conference, doctor's appointment, field trip, whatever she could be a part of to show me she was there for me. She learned what I liked and taught me to cook. She was the reason I loved food so much.
“The one who made me a mom,” she would say. When she had my siblings, she used to promise, “Even though we don’t share DNA, you’re my son. I love you like you’re mine.” I could understand those feelings now. I loved two boys who weren’t mine biologically, like they were mine. I was there foreverything. Every fever, milestone, every birthday, and holiday. I was there for those boys.
After dinner, I couldn’t stop myself. It was like my body moved on its own. I stood and knelt in front of her. I was on one knee, holding her hand, professing my undying love for the last fifteen years, promises of love for the rest of eternity, and to love her sons as mine, because they had always been mine.
“Sarah, love of my life. I let you slip through my fingers once, and I won’t give you that chance again. Will you make me the happiest man on earth and spend the rest of your life with me? Marry me, please,” I showed her every emotion I was feeling. I was an open book for her. Only for her and our kids, our boys.
“Yes,” she breathed out, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiled at me. Love shone bright in her eyes.
T W E N T Y: Building Forever
Sarah’s POV
We took things slow after he proposed. Like a normal relationship, at least in the eyes of the boys. Dates with the two of us, dates as a family of four, while we still lived in our respective apartments. ‘Yes, even though we’re engaged’was starting to be my most hated response to those who asked because they were usually just people who knew about my unique situation of just divorcing my husband. But I didn’t, and he didn’t want to move in until the boys were okay with it. We wanted them to be happy and content with our relationship before we talked about moving in together and getting married. We could wait; neither of us was walking away from the other.
The peaceful life we lived in our love bubble only lasted two months before the harassment started again. It started with Row’s phone. He would get random numbers calling and texting him. When Petey ran a search, he found it was Paloma’s phone and apps that allow you to use other phone numbers, all linked back to her account. Then I started getting calls and messages, again, from Will’s account. The messages were pathetic attempts at flirting.
Will:I saw your news article. You looked amazing.
Will:I saw the proposal. Congrats! You looked so beautiful.
Will:I’m sorry for everything I did. Did you always have this side to you?
I had no idea how he’d found me because I blocked him on all social media, changed my number, and also blocked anyone associated with him. However, he found my number, and I wouldn’t back down. I blocked his number from this phone, and if anyone else sent me messages, I would block themtoo. I was getting messages like that from him every day, at least once a day. I showed Devereaux and Jenson every time I got one. I thought this would be it. Paloma sent me a message. Only one.
Paloma:You had your chance with him and threw it away. Leave him alone. He’s mine, and Cece deserves to have her father present in her life, even if you don’t like it.
I had no idea what that meant, but it was odd. I hadn’t responded to anything he sent me. I just forwarded it to Jenson and showed Devereaux. I went on with my life, loving it. Every day was getting better and better. The boys were happier than ever, having a sleepover with Row every night. We got them to drop the ‘uncle’ before his name; now he was just Row. We had been doing that for about a month when Carter asked something I wasn’t sure how to answer.
“Row? Are you our new daddy?” Row and I paused, looking at each other. I had fear in my eyes; I knew I did. I didn’t know how to answer.
“Carter, Row asked me to marry him. He asked if he could live with us, you, me, and Mave, as a family. Is that something you think you could be okay with?”
“Okay.”
“Really? Do you want to talk about it?”
“I hear you talking at night. And sometimes kissing. But when Row’s around, you’re happy. You’re always happy with Row, Mommy.” I could feel the blush on my cheeks being called out by my almost six-year-old. “It’s okay, because our other daddy doesn’t want us. He never played with us or anything. He didn’t like it when we were loud when we played.” My voice caught in my throat. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think he’d know the difference. I hoped that I could be-would be-enough. Row crouched down, getting eye level with Carter.
“Do you want me to be your dad, Carter?” My son thought for a few moments, he was looking around, his cheeksgetting red. “Think about it. You and Mave talk about it. Talk to Mommy about it. I’ll be here for you guys, whether you want me as your dad or not.” He stood up, and we finished cooking dinner in silence. We ate with light chatter across the table. After setting the boys up with a movie, Row told me he was going to stay at his apartment for a few days to give us time to think and talk about it.
