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We go out to our little backyard, and the two of them wander a few feet away, whispering like they’re conspiring. I have no idea what they’re planning, but I love watching them together and wondering what they’re up to.
“Ready?” Truman asks as he backs away.
“Yep.” Ryle studies the remote in his hand, and then the little airplane slowly lifts from the ground. It’s a bumpy ride, as the little toy flies higher.
“Doing great, buddy,” Truman calls from my side. Ryle gets the plane a little higher, but he panics when it gets close to the big tree on the side of the yard. “It’s okay. Just bring it in to land.”
Ryle nods when Truman coaches him.
I admire the father of my son as he sticks his hands in his pockets and moseys out to stand by Ryle, and Ryle brings the plane down little by little. The landing is a bit rough, and I laugh softly, thinking it’s actually pretty realistic. Ryle squats down over the plane like something’s wrong.
“What happened?” I ask. Truman leans over Ryle, so I cross the yard to stand with them. “Did something break?”
“Nope.” Ryle stands and picks the plane up to show me. Someone—my guess is Truman—painted our names on the side of the toy. Small gold letters spell out Truman, Jules, and Ryle.
“That’s cool.” I swallow down the lump in my throat and glance at Truman.
“Mom?” Ryle taps my arm. I love him, but I wish I could have a moment alone with Truman right now.
“What, Ryle?” I tear my gaze from Truman and see something on the wing of the plane. Some kind of gold plastic. “It did break. What is that?” I reach for the plane.
Truman takes the plane and pulls whatever I saw off the wing. He hands it to Ryle and then Ryle looks at me with a big, sloppy grin.
The same grin Truman wears when I look at him.
“Mom, will you marry Dad?”
Ryle holds up a gold ring. I stare at the ring, somewhat relieved it’s not real. Because what if I said no? What would that do to Ryle? And what if I wanted to say yes, and the ring fell off the wing of the plane and got lost?
“If I eat sauce with my chicken parm, and Dad tells you you’re beautiful every day?”
“Ryle.” I laugh and sniffle again. What if this isn’t real? What if this is something Ryle wanted to do? Maybe the second Ryle walks away, Truman might laugh and shake his head and say “kids. What’re you gonna do?”
“What do you say, Jules?” Truman takes the ring from Ryle and lowers himself to one knee. “Will you marry me?”
I laugh when he slides the gawdy gold ring on my finger.
“Did you get this from a bubble gum machine?”
“Of course not.” Truman rolls his eyes. “We went to a real toy store for this. And it was buy one get one half off, so there’s a matching pair of clip-on earrings for you, too.”
“Nice.”
“Jules?” Truman grips my hand harder. Ryle stares at me with big, innocent eyes.
“Yes.”
“We don’t have to rush a wedding—”
“Dad, she said yes!” Ryle nudges Truman’s shoulder.
“But I need you to know this is—”
“Truman.” I lean forward and cup his face in my hands. “I said yes.” I kiss him. A long, mushy kiss that makes Ryle groan out loud.
“Oh no. Not this.”
I pull Truman to his feet, and he sweeps Ryle up and throws him over his shoulder as we trek back to the house.
