Kissing My Dad's Friend

Is this real? It feels like a dream. Like a fantasy I could have dreamt up. In fact, if I’m being honest, I have dreamt about this moment. About what it might look like, what I might say, if Russ popped the question. I just never imagined he would feel comfortable enough and sure enough about our love to do it this quickly. I thought he’d need another year or two with me to feel sure about things.

I’m not quite sure why I thought that, though. After all, I was sure by the time we boarded the plane to fly to Puerto Rico together. I knew he was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

My throat goes tight, so tight I couldn’t say a word if I wanted. But that’s okay, because Russ isn’t finished talking yet.

“Since I’ve been with you, Maggie, you’ve made me appreciate the world in a whole new way. You’ve made me want to attack life, not just to sit by and be content with where the current takes me. I want to keep up that same energy, the same vigor, that you’ve given me, for the rest of my days. I want to go through this life with you beside me, both of us together making more of a difference in the world than we ever could apart.”

As he talks, he reaches into his pocket with his free hand, and withdraws a little velvet box.

“Maggie Owens. Will you marry me?”

I hiccup. Actually hiccup. In the future, he’ll remind me of that so often it will become a running joke. But then I force through the sound with a laugh and start nodding, before my mouth will even work properly. “Yes. Yes, of course I will.” I barely even notice the ring he slides onto my finger, at least not in the moment. Later, I’ll admire the beautiful diamond, surrounded by tiny little emerald studs, because he knows green is my favorite color, and because he remembered me saying one day that I thought plain diamond engagement rings weren’t unique enough for me.

Later, I’ll look back and realize how absolutely perfectly he planned every detail. I’ll even appreciate the fact that, apparently, before we even left for our trip he had gone to my father and told him about his intentions, and asked for his permission to take my hand in marriage. He talked to my mother, too, and promised them both that he would take care of me on this trip. That he would never leave my side, no matter what happened.

He explained that he loved me. The way they loved each other. And they approved, thank god. After all this time, they finally understood us, too.

Before we even got to Puerto Rico, I’d realize eventually, he’d already picked out the ring, started dreaming about and planning for this moment.

Later this same night, I’ll learn that he went even farther than just this beautiful little gazebo on the beach and a meal planned just for me. He reserved us rooms at a hotel, a real hotel, far on the other side of the island. He got us permission to take one day off work, and booked a van to take us over there for some much needed relaxation, with rooftop sunset views and a jacuzzi tub and everything. He shipped champagne, real champagne, to the hotel. And he got all of our coworkers and supervisors in on it, with them covering shifts for us and ensuring we’d have time to savor our engagement tonight and tomorrow.

Later, I’ll learn all of that, and love him even more for it. But none of that is the reason I tell him yes.

In the moment, all I have eyes for is Russ. Russ, standing up before me, on an island that he followed my crazy life dreams to come to. Russ, tugging me up into his arms, lifting me off the sand with the force of his embrace, so strong and steady against me. Russ, with his mouth against mine, our arms around each other, our chests pressed so close together we could hear our hearts beating through each other’s bodies. Russ, with the kind of kiss that I’ll never forget, for as long as we both shall live.

He’s all I saw right then. And he’s the only thing in the world I needed to see.