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Don’t worry, I love you and next time, we’ll both be ready for it.
“OK” seems so … not okay.
That feeling begins to gnaw in my stomach again, that our relationship took a major hit yesterday with this pregnancy scare. But I could also chalk it up to Jonah not being keen on texting. And it’s easy to misinterpret thoughts and feelings in texts. It’s too easy for your own insecurities to breed falsities in a simple word.
What I do know is that I can’t let him fly off like this, with my head and my heart spinning, not until I’ve talked to him, face-to-face.
I charge for the hallway, for my red plaid jacket—the one Jonah bought me last year after he bled all over my favorite cardigan—intent on getting out to the hangar and spending the next hour fixing this tension however I can before Sam gets here. In my haste, I knock Jonah’s wool jacket off the hook.
A small box falls out of his pocket.
I frown at the small black jewelry box as I collect it from the floor. It takes a few beats to process what it could be.
No way …
With my pulse pounding in my ears and a furtive glance out the door to confirm Jonah is not about to walk into the house and catch me snooping, I pop open the lid.
I gasp at the diamond ring that stares back at me, and the pieces fall into place.
Jonah was wearing this jacket yesterday. The surprise trip to the cabin … the lunch … the bottle of champagne … him, acting so strange …
He was going to propose.
Before his words triggered the pregnancy scare, he was talking about spending the rest of his life with me. I remember—vaguely—one hand leaving my face, reaching toward his pocket.
He was literally in the process of asking me to marry him when I panicked about being late.
“Seriously?” Wild flutters stir in my stomach. With no warning? No marriage conversations beforehand? I mean, we’ve only been living together for five months! We’ve known each other less than a year, and yet, here is this ring—this stunning diamond ring designed to look like a snowflake, with countless diamonds of various sizes—and he was going to propose to me yesterday.
And I would have said yes, I realize with absolute certainty.
I would have been shocked speechless when he asked, but I would have said yes, as I said yes to Alaska and yes to this house, because being with Jonah is not optional. Because, despite knowing him for less than a year, I can’t imagine my life without him in it anymore. I never want to be without him again.
I would have said yes.
I would be wearing this ring. We would be engaged.
Instead, I freaked out about the possibility of being pregnant and probably not in a way that screamed, “We should get married!”
An ache stirs in my chest as I think back to that look on Jonah’s face—of hurt and disappointment. He’d planned the entire day—the location, the lunch. He’d even brought champagne. And me, being entirely caught unaware, never put two and two together.
Oh my God.
What if he doesn’t want to marry me anymore?
“Yeah, but a baby changes everything, Jonah. It’s permanent. It’s for life.”
“As opposed to what we are?”
Did I unwittingly create a fissure between us with my rambling?
I shut the box and slide it back into its hiding spot in his pocket, fixing the jacket as best I can so I don’t let on that I’ve discovered Jonah’s secret.
And then I head for the door, hoping a walk to the hangar will give me enough time to figure out what the hell I’m going to say to him.
* * *
I frown at the silver truck parked next to ours outside the hangar. There’s no doubt whose it is. A magnetic sign with her veterinarian clinic name clings to the door.
