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“But she said yes,” I said. I thought suddenly of the first time my grandmother had told me that story, during an early visit when I was still reeling from how things had ended in New York, and Adam was just another member of the staff, albeit a little more attentive and a lot better looking than the others. I’d told her it seemed a little rash to me, that she’d marry a guy she’d been seeing for barely two months, one she knew her parents wouldn’t approve of. She’d just smiled at me—and then glanced at Adam, as if she were trying to tell me something, as if she’d known before I did that something would happen between us. Then she’d leaned close and whispered, “When it’s meant to be, you don’t want to wait.”
I’d thought then that she was crazy.
Now I understood that she’d simply known her own heart and trusted it, in a way I never had. Never thought I could.
I stepped forward, moving into the space between us, until it was gone and we were touching.
“Yes,” I said.
Adam stared at me. “What?”
“Yes,” I said more emphatically. “I’m saying yes. I’ll marry you. Let’s get married.”
He leaned in, taking my face in his hands, his eyes deep and intense and so hungry that it was frightening.
“Don’t say yes if you don’t mean it. Because I mean it. I would do anything for you. Do you understand? Anything. So if you don’t mean it or if you’re not sure—”
I threw my hands up and practically yelled, “Yes! It’s yes!” and in a single movement his hands slid around my waist, his mouth found mine. And for a long time after that, neither one of us said anything else.
Hours later, after we’d kissed on the street for what felt like forever and then drove to a hotel where we spent a second thrilling eternity having post-I-love-you sex, I felt him pull my hand out from beneath the duvet. I was curled up, nearly asleep, but my eyes flew open as I felt him slide the ring onto my finger.
“It’s not a diamond,” he said. “I looked for one, but they’re really expensive.” He looked so nervous that I laughed in spite of myself.
“Never liked diamonds much.” I raised my hand, ready to fake enthusiasm no matter what was there, but I gasped with delight when I saw what he’d given me. It was a garnet, deep red and glistening, encircled by a lacy filigree setting, as if someone had spun a golden web to catch a drop of blood. “Oh, I love it. I love it. It’s an estate piece, isn’t it?”
“If that’s how you rich kids say ‘secondhand,’ then yeah. That right there is the certified used car of engagement rings.”
“Stop, I think it’s romantic,” I said. “I love thinking about who might have worn this before me.”
“It was some fat lady.”
“What?!” I screeched, and he started to laugh.
“I’m serious,” he said. “That’s what it says inside. It saysfat.”
I tugged the ring off my finger and peered at the inner band. The engraving on the inside was worn and hard to read, but sure enough, there it was: the ring was inscribed to F.A.T., from someone named Olly.
“Well, it’s an honor to wear Fat’s ring,” I said. “I’ll try to be worthy of it.”
Adam was still grinning. “I don’t know, girl, those are some big shoes to fill. For all we know, Fat was twice the woman you are.”
I was laughing so hard I could barely speak. I took a deep breath and managed to gasp, “I see this as a growth opportunity,” then collapsed into his arms. He had brought our bags in from the car and was dressed for bed in old joggers and a T-shirt.
“You’ll stay with me tonight, won’t you? I really want you to. And not just because I need you to drive me home.”
I buried my face in his chest. “I’ll stay.”
“Is there anyone you want to call?”
“Call? What for?”
“To tell them you’re engaged?” His voice was teasing. “No friends, no family? No crazy competitive girlfriend who’d straight-up shit herself if she knew you got engaged before she did?”
I cringed a little, imagining whom I might call; apart from the dutifulso sorry for your lossmessages that flooded in after Mimi died, I hadn’t talked to any of my old friends in months. “I can’t think of anyone. Except my mom, and that’s going to be... complicated.”
“No hurry. We’ll figure it out together,” he said. I buried my face in his chest and breathed deeply. Thinking what a lovely phrase that was:No hurry. I wasn’t in a hurry. I was exactly where I wanted to be. Wrapped in Adam’s arms, warm and safe, smelling the soft clean scentof laundry detergent, the slightly zingy aroma of Old Spice, the heady notes of his sweat underneath. And then, just for a moment, just as I turned my head to rest my ear against his chest, one last thing: the light and slightly medicinal scent of lavender.
Lavender from a field in France. Lavender growing at the end of a dark path in the brackish mud.
