Faith’s hands are still on my face, her eyes shining. She can’t believe she said it, and also because she’s never said anything more true.
I slide the ring onto her finger.
It fits.
It’s such a stupid thing to feel emotional about. The fit. The simple fact that it belongs there.
Faith stares at it. It’s proof of something bigger than either of us.
Then she looks up at me and smiles.
I stand, pulling her up with me, and she launches into my arms, kissing me hard. No hesitation, no audience awareness, no restraint.
The crowd loses its mind all over again.
When we finally break apart, her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright, her hair a little messy from the wind and my hands, and she’s standing fully inside her own life.
“I love you,” she whispers.
My throat tightens.
“I love you too,” I say, and it’s not scary. It’s not complicated. It’s just true.
Behind us, Boone clears his throat loudly.
“Alright,” he announces. “Congratulations. Now, everybody, get out of my way. Brisket’s getting cold.”
Nash calls, “Boone’s love language is meat!”
Boone points the tongs as a weapon. “Keep talking, Nash.”
Faith laughs into my chest, and I hold her tighter.
Lila throws her arms around both of us, squeezing, trying to fuse us together with sheer willpower.
“This means you’re gonna live here forever,” Lila declares.
Faith goes soft. “That’s the plan, sweetheart.”
Lila nods, satisfied.
Mom comes in close, wiping at her cheeks, and cups Faith’s face with both hands the way she does when she’s blessing something without saying the word.
“Welcome,” Mom whispers.
Faith’s eyes fill again. “Thank you.”
Rose hugs her. Jet hugs her. Ellie hugs her legs. Nash offers a dramatic bow. Clay claps me on the shoulder hard enough to make my teeth click and mutters, “Good,” because that’s the highest praise he can manage.
And then life rolls back in. Plates being passed, kids yelling, dogs begging, smoke drifting up into the spring sky.
But everything has shifted.
Faith keeps lifting her left hand—she can’t help it—catching the light on her ring, smiling to herself, she’s still trying to believe it’s real.
With her hand in mine.
With my kid tugging my sleeve.
