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Finally, he hears it. “You got a job?”
I nod, my chest too tight to say it again.
“Where?” he asks excitedly. “With who?”
I plop down into the chair again, taking him with me. He takes a knee, staying with me while I take a few calming breaths.
“With Grant,” I answer with a smile. “He’s…” I exhale. “He’s doing a new show here in Chicago this fall. He asked me tonight to be his assistant director.”
Connor’s jaw drops. “He did?”
“Uh-huh! He asked me why I didn’t apply for it and I said I wasn’t sure I was qualified and he said — he said?—”
“Breathe.”
I pause. I breathe. “He said that was stupid because he created the position specifically for me, so I better get qualified fast.”
He laughs. “Well, that’s cool.”
“I know! He also said it probably wouldn’t pay much at first — or ever — but whatever. A job’s a job.”
“And it’s something you love,” Connor says.
I nod. It really is.
I throw my arms around him. He hugs me back, not too tight. Everything is all coming together. Connor was first pick on Draft Day, but that surprised no one. My brothers, too. After months of stress, a job fell into my lap the night before our graduation. And…
“Connor,” I say, my eyes on the floor. “What’s with the peanut butter cups?”
Connor looks down, his head tilting as his eyes follow the trail. “Oh. Those.”
I study his face. Nervous with a touch of panic. “Connor?”
He looks down at himself and smiles. “Well, I guess since I’m already here…”
He reaches into the pocket of his blazer.
Wait.
A path leading to the bedroom.
He’s all dressed up.
He’s down on one knee.
He’s—
Oh.
He takes out his phone, swiping it on. “I wrote it down,” he says, nervously clearing his throat. “Dear Dana,” he reads from the screen. “I want you… to be my wife.”
Oh.
Oh, he’s actually?—
He reaches into his other pocket and withdraws a small box. Blue velvet lined with gold.
Go, Bearhawks.
