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“I wasn’t planning this or anything,” he said. “Been carrying it around for a while, and I definitely didn’t think I’d do this at your parents’ of all places.”
I kept my hand over my mouth, nodding, even though I struggled to make sense of what he was saying.
“This is a moonstone.” He held up the ring. “Over time, the color can subtly change. It’s not the most expensive stone or the most traditional. It’s kind of like the adult version of a mood ring. See how the edges aren’t smooth?”
The stone took a natural shape, oval but still misshapen, highlighted by the tiny diamonds around the outside edge. I nodded.
“I didn’t just pick the most expensive ring,” he said. “I wanted one that reminded me of you.”
Finally, I lowered my hands, dropping onto my knees. “Are you asking me to marry you? Why are you talking so much?”
He laughed. “Nerves, I guess.”
“You know my answer, Manning.”
He took my hand in both of his and removed our cherished mood ring from my fourth finger. “I love you, Lake. I guess there are lots more romantic places I could ask you to be mine, but where better than the first time I laid eyes on you?”
Manning had to have known proposing in a place painted with our history would mean more to me than anything else. I nodded hard. “I love you, too.”
“In this spot, you opened your beautiful mouth and decided to trust me. To love someone you weren’t supposed to. To ask me about Pink Floyd.” He smiled. “So I’d really like if, right here, you’d agree to be my wife.”
“I do,” I said, bumbling over the words with a fluttered laugh. “I mean yes. ‘I do’ comes later.”
“Officially, even though I already think of you as mine forever—will you marry me?”
How could I possibly explain how much I wanted that, too? Had always wanted that? What could I say to convey my love for him? “Manning—”
“Just say yes, Birdy.”
My eyes watered. Though I’d fought with Manning many times over the fact that perfection didn’t exist, in the end, I might’ve actually been wrong about that. A tear crept down my cheek. “Yes.”
He slid the ring in place and stood, helping me up. I launched myself into his arms and he pulled me against him so tightly, I was off my feet, our mouths meeting. “You went awfully far to get me to kiss you at my parents’ house,” I whispered against his lips.
“Not far enough if you ask me.” He pecked me and set me down. “Let’s get back inside before they come looking for us.”
“Do we have to?” I sighed as he took my hand and walked us up the walkway. I lifted our interlocked hands to inspect the ring. “It’s beautiful. I don’t want to share it with anyone.”
He released my hand, took the ring off, and tucked it into a black velvet box. “I’ll put it back on you tonight, when we’re home.”
I snuggled into his side, silently thanking him for not asking why. I didn’t need Tiffany judging my non-diamond or Mom and Dad trying to figure out what it meant. Manning was the one who always reminded me our relationship was nobody else’s business. We were years beyond allowing anyone else to dictate how we should feel about each other.
He pushed the ring box back in his pocket and opened the front door for us.
“There you two are,” Mom said as we walked back into the dining room. “We were about to give up and have some pie.”
“We’ll get it,” Manning and I said at the same time.
We both laughed as Mom, Dad, and Tiffany stared blankly at us. Once, Manning and I had served my family pie together on special guest dishes. I’d snuck glances at him, trying to figure him out, and Manning was surely remembering the same thing.
I opened the Tupperware I’d brought as Manning uncovered the cake dish with Tiffany’s pie. “Is this apple?” he asked. “Looks good.”
I smiled sweetly at him. “I love you, Great Bear, but if you lay a finger on that pie, I’ll toss that engagement ring in the garbage disposal and walk out of your life forever.”
He guffawed a laugh, pushed aside the plate, and pulled me into his arms. “You didn’t let me finish. I was saying that pie looks good for a second-rate pastry. You should know nothing, and nobody, could ever steal me away from my favorite flavor—blueberry.”
Big Bear
Summer 2009
8
Despite a home filled with friends and family, I had no doubt who was tapping on my door at midnight. I turned on a lamp and got out of bed. With a knowing smile, I tied my robe around my waist.
I answered to find Manning leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over a black t-shirt. “Don’t like knocking on my own bedroom door.”
