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I’m at my parents’ house in Brooklyn. Saxon and Catie are here, and so are Damon, my cousin, Kennedy, her husband, Jackson, with their baby, Eddie, and Brandon and Jenny, Kennedy’s parents. Brandon is my father’s twin brother. Pongo the Dalmatian, currently stretched out in front of the fire, completes the picture.
I’ve been waiting all evening for Saxon to pop the question. It’s now nearly ten o’clock, and Catie’s yawning. If he leaves it any longer, she’s going to say she’s off to bed, and then he’ll have missed his opportunity.
Everyone looks at me, puzzled, then at him. He purses his lips, stretches out on the beanbag he’s currently sitting in, rubs his hands over his face, then sinks them into his hair.
“I’m going to regret this,” he mumbles.
I chuckle and settle back to watch the scene play out.
Saxon gets to his feet and holds his hand out to Catie, and she lets him pull her to her feet. She told me earlier that she’s twenty-three weeks pregnant, and now she’s put on a little weight, so she looks healthy and beautiful.
“Don’t freak out, okay?” he says to her. “I mean, yeah, I could see why you might, but just remember the babies.”
She looks confused and glances at me. I just smile. Saxon has had a few girlfriends over the years, some that lasted longer than others, but he’s never fallen head over heels like this for a girl before. It’s strange to see him so captivated.
He takes a small, black velvet box out of his track pants and opens it.
“Catie,” he says, sinking down onto one knee. “Will you make me the happiest guy in the world and marry me?”
Most of us have been drinking, but that’s enough to sober everyone up. Beside me, Damon says, “Wow,” clearly shocked.
“What?” Catie says.
“Breathe,” Saxon replies. “Hyperventilation isn’t good for the boys.”
Damon gets up and takes a look at the ring. “Wow. Bro. How many carats?”
Jackson also peers at it. “Must be at least three.”
“Jesus,” Kennedy says. “How much did that set you back? You’re talking over a hundred K, right?”
Catie’s face is a picture. For a girl who used to spend less than thirty dollars a week on food, she’s clearly struggling with the thought of spending such a fortune on a single item.
“Guys, you’re not helping,” Saxon says. He glances at me, and I can see he’s nervous that she’s going to panic and say no.
“Well?” he asks her.
“Are you serious?” she says.
“Yeah.”
“You’re really asking me to marry you?”
“Yeah.”
“For the babies? So they’ll have your name?”
“Our name. You’ll be Mrs. Catie Chevalier. My wife.”
“Mrs. Chevalier?”
“Yeah. Unless you particularly want to keep your name. I’ll be your husband. You can boss me around and tell me to pick up my socks.”
I can tell he’s suddenly conscious that we’re all watching him. He rises, glancing around.
“All right,” he says. “Sorry guys, show’s over.” Taking her hand, he leads her out of the room, onto the terrace. I watch him put a throw around her shoulders, then start speaking to her, head bent close to hers.
“Fucking hell,” Damon says, “I didn’t expect that.”
