From there, we cross to the waterfront side of the street near the Fiel Firme Bridge, a drawbridge that connects downtown St. Anastasia to its barrier islands, which also glows with lights. We walk alongside the water away from the bridge on a raised sidewalk. Black metal posts every five feet are connected to each other by heavy iron chains, blocking pedestrians from the edge of the wall that drops down into the water. This time of year, tubes of white lights are woven into the iron chains, creating a luminous effect.
The farther we walk from the bridge, the quieter the sidewalk becomes. We still have groups of other people around us—the holiday light display in St. Anastasia is a major tourist destination November through January—but the night feels stiller and more peaceful.
“Let’s sit here,” I say to Nicole, nudging her toward a cement bench on the sidewalk overlooking the water, the bridge in the distance. As we sit, a breeze whips past us. Nicole snuggles into my side, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders.
Moment of truth. I rub my sweaty palms against my jeans again. I place a gentle kiss on Nicole’s temple, and then slide off the bench, onto one knee in front of her.
After I retrieve the ring from my pocket and hold it hidden in one hand, I take Nicole’s hands with my other. She’s staring at me, lips slightly parted and a soft expression on her face. She leans forward, rapt.
I clear my throat. “I’ve been telling you all night how I feel about you.” My voice cracks. “How much I love you. So now I only have one thing left to say: Nicole, will you marry me?”
I hold up the ring, which has a white gold band designed to look like vines around the setting, tiny diamonds in the leaves. The stone is a round cut emerald the same color as Nicole’s eyes.
Nicole, a glowing smile on her lips and tears rolling down her cheeks, whoops, “Yes!”
I slip the ring onto her finger, and she holds out her hand, admiring it. I stand and pull her up with me, bundling her into my arms. She pulls my head down and finds my lips with hers.
A loud burst of cheering and clapping interrupts our embrace. To my embarrassment, we lift our heads to see about ten people watching us. Several are holding up phones.
“I didn’t realize we had an audience,” I murmur in her ear.
A few of the onlookers toss out their congratulations. Nicole leaves my arms and approaches the ones with their phones out. I hear her asking to see what they filmed and for them to send it to her. I just shake my head.
Later, as we’re walking back to her apartment, I ask, “Were you surprised?”
She glances up at my face and squeaks, “Yes,” but she’s a terrible liar.
“Really?” I ask with a frown.
She puffs out a laugh, hugging my arm. “Adam, you’ve been emphasizing all week that tonight is a ‘special’ date. So, I kind of had a feeling.”
Oh. Yeah, now that I think back, I did use the word “special” several times.
Nicole stops walking and turns to me, placing a hand on either side of my face. “Not surprised,” she says, a smile as bright as the twinkling lights surrounding us overtaking her face, “but so, so happy.”
