“Of course you did.”
“What came out was clumsy.”
“Clumsy is my favorite version of you.”
He laughed into my shoulder.
We danced after that. Not intentionally. The radio played something impossible not to move to; Ellis pulled me close, my hands gripped his shoulders, and we swayed in the kitchen like this was a prom and a wedding and a promise all at once.
In this kitchen, with his hands on my waist and my head on his shoulder and the knowledge that we chose this and were still choosing and wouldprobably keep choosing, nothing else mattered.
He pulled back enough to look at me. His eyes were that complicated green-brown I’d never got tired of. The geometric tattoo on his arm caught the light. His face had the softness of someone who’d learned to put down the armor.
We stood in the kitchen, two people who’d survived their own worst fears. Forever was a fancy word for choosing to stay, every single day.
The Inner Circle arrived on a Saturday in May, which was when Brooklyn finally admitted spring existed.
Calliope came first because she was always first. She brought chaos and flowers, a bouquet that looked like it had survived a hurricane but worked, all clashing colors and stems at aggressive angles. She dumped them into my arms before I could properly greet her.
“These are for your apartm…”
She stopped.
The bouquet hit the floor between us.
She had my left hand by the wrist before the flowers finished landing, holding it up to the light.
“What. Is. THAT?!”
I’d been wearing it for sixteen hours, and I’d already imagined her face six different ways. None of them were as good as the real one.
“Last night.”
“LAST NIGHT?”
“Hardwood. Longstory.”
“Hardwood?”
“Ellis got on one knee. In our kitchen with a four-page speech scrapped.”
She made a sound I’d never heard her make before. Halfway between a scream and a laugh, with a sob underneath. Didn’t let go of my wrist.
“SIERRA. RAVEN. GET. IN. HERE.”
Ellis came out of the kitchen, took one look at Calliope and my outstretched hand, and laughed the way he laughed when something he’d been waiting for had finally arrived.
Sierra rounded the corner with her camera already up. The shutter clicked twice before she’d taken three steps. Then she let the camera drop, crossed the room, and pulled me into a hug so tight my ribs ached.
“You said yes.” Into my shoulder.
“I said it three times.”
“Of course you did.”
Raven came last. Didn’t ask to see the ring. She walked past us, dropped to her knees in the parallelogram of gold the afternoon sun cut across the rug, and pulled the Ten of Cups out of her deck without shuffling. Set it face-up on the floor, like she’d been holding onto that card for three weeks waiting for this exact moment.
She finally looked up. Her face did the thing it almost never did. She smiled all the way.
