Page 148 of Love Is an Art
“It’s closed,” I say, a bit disappointed. It would have been so perfect to visit this gallery again on our six-month anniversary. But Zeke has moved away.Is he checking the door to see if it’s open?
“What are you doing?” I ask, following him. He’s pulled out an envelope—and a key!
“I rented it.”
“You rented the whole gallery?” I ask.
“They’re in between shows, so they gave me a discount,” he says. “It was sitting empty, so they were glad for the business.”
“But why?” I turn to face him.
Zeke pushes his wavy locks out of his eyes. His gaze on mine is so intent. That look of love gets me every time. I reach out to hold his hand. He clasps mine but then tightens his grip. I give him a reassuring squeeze back.
“To celebrate our six-month anniversary.” He’s biting his lip as he pushes the door open. Zeke flips on the light switch, and I let out an “Oh!”
A table for two sits in the middle of the gallery, with tea candles ready to be lit. And there are 8x10 photographs framed on the wall.
The ones nearest me are the ones that I included in my brief and that he included in his PowerPoint from that time we made up. But our most recent escapades have been caught as well. He put so much effort into this. My heart pings with little yips of delight. I made him breakfast in bed, and then we went for a walk in Central Park with Brit to celebrate our anniversary, but this is a whole other level of effort.
I stand in front of the photo of us having dinner with Taylor and Mrs. Humming. That’s become a regular event now.
The photo of us from last month’s Halloween party where we dressed up as pieces of modern art makes me smile. Our “art” was not particularly good because we created our own costumes. But we had so much fun painting each other. I blush.
There’s the photograph of me on my first day as a FLAFL attorney and another one of Zeke his first day solely reporting to Charles, like those first day of school pictures.
One by one, these photos mark our relationship history.
I gravitate to the photo that is my favorite—Zeke and I staring at each other with so much love in our eyes. Miranda took it at a September weekend in Fire Island with all our friends.
Zeke is fiddling with the picnic basket next to the tablecloth-draped dining table. I bounce over to him and hug him from behind.
“What are you doing over here?” I ask.
“I’m just trying to get everything ready,” Zeke says as he fumbles with the top button of his shirt and loosens his collar. He pulls out a whole bunch of take-out containers, including a prepared salad, my favorite balsamic vinegar dressing, and dumplings. Yummy.
“I can’t believe you did this,” I say. “It’s perfect.”
His head snaps up. “It is?”
I nod. “Perfect.” I kiss him quickly on the lips. “Do you need help?”
“No.” He swallows, and I watch his Adam’s apple move. I want to kiss him again. But then he wipes his hands on his pants and takes a deep breath.
Why is he nervous?
His glance finally meets mine, and his blue eyes soften. “You know, Tessa, I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat anything first.”
He drops to one knee.
My mouth opens, but no sound emerges.
He holds my hand and looks up at me, with so much warmth and love.
“I love you,” he says. “Will you make me very happy and do me the honor of being my wife? I want to share my life with you.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes.” I sort of jump, but it ends up being more of a fall, into his arms to hug him, knocking him over.
“Oops,” I say as we lay entwined on the floor.
