Birthday Girl
Slowly reaching out, I take the box out of his hand and open it, my mouth going as dry as a desert when I see the diamond ring inside.
Tears sting my eyes, and my mouth falls open.
It’s a rose. Like the ones on the birthday cake he got me last year and the flowers I planted around the house this spring. A large diamond sits in the middle of platinum petals, adorned with little stones themselves, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Beautiful and special and completely me.
He wants to marry me?
I let out a little sob, overwhelmed. “Are you kidding me right now?” I snap. “I’m covered in mud!”
He’s doing this now? When there were hundreds of dinners and breakfasts in bed this past year when I was pretty and clean?
His chest shakes with a laugh behind me and he wraps his arms around my waist. “You’re beautiful.”
I rub my thumb over the large stone. It’s real. All this is real.
“I’ve been planning this for a long time,” he says. “You think I’d know what I wanted to do or say, but I can’t think right now.” His breath falls across my hair as he whispers. “I guess I should’ve gotten down on one knee, huh?”
“No, don’t let go of me.” My voice shakes.
I swallow the hard lump in my throat and pull the ring out, setting the box down and trying it on. The cool band slides on perfectly, and I take his hand, putting it on the handle again with mine on top of it.
His finger doesn’t yet have a ring as I entwine our hands.
But it will.
My heart swells like it’s too much for my chest to hold, and I’m speechless. He certainly surprised me. I can’t believe he did this without giving me one clue what he was up to.
I stare at our hands together, leaning back into him and even more excited now for everything that’s to come. I think part of me—a small part—was still waiting for him. It was always in the back of my mind, that fear that he might still see me as too young or not ready for this or him, but he has to know…
I’m happy every day. There’s nothing that feels better than him.
A few raindrops hit my arms, the clouds overhead darkening, and I finally find my breath, inhaling deeply.
“So, you going to say ‘yes’ or…” He trails off.
I smile at the small ounce of fear I hear in his voice at my silence. “Yes.” I turn and kiss him. “You make me so happy. I love you.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “I love you so much it hurts, baby.”
His mouth sinks to mine again, and he takes my face in his hands, kissing me and teasing my tongue to where I feel it everywhere. My breathing turns ragged, and I’m about to suggest we take this to the truck, since we’re all alone out here, but the rain picks up, hitting my body much faster now.
I break the kiss and look up, squinting against the rain to see the storm clouds overhead. Summer storms are starting early this year.
He climbs off, helping me, and we both jog to the passenger side of the truck, him opening my door for me.
“Can we do it today?” I ask, taking my brand-new, unused helmet off my seat and setting it on the floor.
“Get married?” he asks. “You really don’t care about the wedding, do you?”
I look over to see him grinning at me as he pulls off his muddy shirt and tosses it into the bed of the truck.
I stand in the open door and shrug. It never occurred to me growing up to care about a party and fancy clothes. When other young women dreamed up their theme colors and bridesmaids’ dresses, I just wanted everything after that. The husband, the kids, the home with the smell of cookies after school, picnics and road trips…
I climb the step, about to get into the truck, but he pulls me back around and into him. I fall into his naked chest, my feet still planted on the step, and wrap my arms around his neck.
“I kind of do care about it,” he admits, flinching a little as if in apology. “I’ve never been married before, either, you know? I’d love to see you in a dress.”
Now how can I say no to that? I nod, kissing him again. It might be fun, actually. Engagement photos in the mud? Yes, please.