“Have to be honest,” I say. “I’m finding I’m less attached to it than I was a minute ago.” I’m also finding that my animosity toward Jon Bon Jovi has suddenly dissipated. Write it in pencil? Solid advice, actually! Sometimes plans change, and I’ve learned that it isn’t always for the worst.
Quentin and I lean in closer, our grins mirroring each other.
“I didn’t know Jon Bon Jovi was a puzzle box guy,” he says.
“Maybe he isn’t. Maybe he’s a seltzer-industry-memorabilia guy.”
“A things-that-contained-treasure guy? That would be a fun niche collection.” Quentin plants a small kiss on the tip of mynose, then one at the corner of my eye. “How much do you think he’ll offer?”
“Hopefully enough to add to the money from the ring and your portion of the proceeds from your dad’s house so we have more available for our down payment.”
“Oh,” he says. “I was thinking we’d put it toward a wedding.”
“A wedding?!” I ask, laughing. “Hold your horses, man, it’s been like three seconds since we got together.”
“I’ve loved you for a lot longer, though,” he says, his lips now at my cheek.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like a full minute. Maybe even two.”
We share another long, silent smile, where we exist in our own fantastic world of magic and joy. Being with Quentin sometimes feels like I’ve stumbled into Edlo, except I know none of this is make-believe. It’s real and enduring, made up of every moment we have ever loved each other, and all the moments we ever will. And I’ll forever be glad we found ittogether.
