Page 147 of Road Trip to Forever
The ring is small. It’s barely flashy enough to ward off potential suitors and announce she’s taken, but Lola doesn’t want flashy.
Simple, she told me one night over dinner as she raised her eyebrows and stabbed her green beans. I’d casually asked for her jewelry preferences, just to make sure I wasn’t underestimating her tastes.
Simple, like our love.
Simple, like how easy it is to loveher.
Simple, like how every day has been with her by my side.
I’ve kept the velvet box in my pocket for three years. It’s traveled around the world with us to Australia and Edinburgh. The trip to England we finally took together, spending a day in Bath to see The Jane Austen Centre and buying a new edition ofPride and Prejudicefor her bookshelves. At national parks here in the States and kayaking down the Charles River.
Every time we go somewhere new, I snap a photo of the diamond. Box open. Princess-cut stones catching in the sunlight. Lola’s back turned as she ties her shoe or points to a flock of birds flying overhead. Walking down the side of the mountain ahead of me, oblivious to what’s happening behind her.
The photos are all saved in a password-protected folder on my phone. LLF it’s titled.
Love Lola Forever.
It’s what I intend to do.
She’s never asked me what it means, and I can’t wait to show her what I’ve been hiding.
There have been plenty of opportunities to pop the question.
At the top of the Eiffel Tower when we were in Paris for Fashion Week last fall, sipping champagne and celebrating her success as a featured name on the runway.
Over dinner on a rainy Thursday night, the sky dark and the weather cool, sharing a slice of pizza on the couch in the quiet of our home. A walkup Brownstone off Newbury Street, a three-minute walk from her shop and a ten-minute train ride to my school. There’s no porch or garage, but there is a rooftop terrace.
Compromise, I said to Lola when I handed her the keys. She gets the city. I get the house.
I also get her, which is all that really matters.
She kissed me real hard after that.
No time has felt like the perfect opportunity yet. It hasn’t felt likeus, two people who have known each other for eternity, long before her name ever appeared in glossy magazines and on the Academy Awards red carpet. Back before she had a million social media followers, a full inbox, and fan mail.
It’s why I’m playing the long game. A plan that’s taken close to nine hundred days to pull off, all ending today.
July 18th.
The same day I first met her twenty-seven years ago.
I carefully lay out a checkered blanket in the middle of a field outside the city, using four rocks to hold down the corners so the breeze doesn’t pick up the tartan fabric and blow it away. I squint up at the sky and smile at the warmth on my face. The gray clouds from the morning have broken, giving way to bright sunshine and blue as far as the eye can see.
I spread out the books and make sure they’re in the right order. I take a deep breath and fill my lungs with a nervous gulp of air. It feels like my heart is going to fall out of my chest and burrow in the dirt.
I don’t know why I’m afraid. I know Lola is going to say yes.
We’ve talked about marriage dozens of times. I would’ve returned the ring if she had been totally against it, but she’s not. Just the other day she looked at me over her bowl of cereal and asked if I wanted to go to the courthouse and make our relationshiplegally binding. I panicked and turned on the blender, drowning out her question so I didn’t have to answer her.
This is worth the wait.
Satisfied with the setting, I jog back to the Jeep and open the passenger door. I make sure Lola’s blindfold is in place and I slip her hand in mine. A current passes through me as our fingers thread around each other, a wave of electricity zapping me from just the squeeze of her palm.
Years later, and I still get butterflies when I touch her.
I wonder if that will ever end, and I really hope it doesn’t.
“Okay,” I say. “Ready?”
