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But once I’m seated, he drops down to one knee on the floor in front of me.
All the air escapes my lungs.
“Allie and I went shopping,” he starts.
Fiddling with something wrapped tightly in his palm, he rolls his fist over to show me a maroon velvet box. With trembling hands, he opens the box, revealing a ring. And not any ring, the most beautiful piece of jewelry I have ever seen.
Two delicate white gold bands glimmer against the light from the bedside lamp, the little diamond accents nearly stealing my attention away from the giant rock in the center.
“Allie wanted one band and I liked another; we couldn’t decide on one, so we got both, and soldered them together.” The bands aren’t identical, but they perfectly match, as if they were made to be a pair.
With shaking hands, he pulls the ring from the box, grasping my hand in his. “I love you, Jenna. The day you walked into my classroom I think my heart stopped beating. I went home and told my mom I had met a girl. What I didn’t tell her was that I knew I was going to marry you.
“I don't have a proposal planned, but we picked up this ring today and I told myself I’d carry it around, and whenever there was moment between us, where I look at you and think—this is it, I couldn’t possibly love her more, I would take that opportunity to drop to my knee and propose.” He looks over his shoulder at the clock on the bedside table. “Should have known it would be within the first ten minutes of seeing you for that moment to happen.” He turns back to look at the ring before his eyes come to meet mine. “Marry me, Jenna, and I’ll promise to always show you how you deserve to be loved.”
My vision blurs as my eyes fill with tears. A crackling sob escapes me, this time from happiness and not from sadness. I grab his face with both hands, forcefully kissing him, his arms still trapped between us. I wrap myself around him, never ever wanting to let him go.
“Sorry it's not a sex toy,” he teases, and I laugh against his lips, not taking the time to answer because I refuse to stop kissing him.
“Is that a yes?” he asks when I finally break for air.
“Hell yeah, that’s a yes!” I grab the ring from the box, and he helps me slide it on.
I look at the ring on my hand, the man still kneeling at my feet, wondering what I did to deserve his love.
But I think that’s what love is. It’s someone who loves you even if you feel you don't deserve it, or can't understand why they'd choose you, but by choosing you, they've somehow made you a stronger version of yourself. No matter the distance, how much time has passed, or the angry words once said. Love will make it through, and that, in itself, is a goddamn miracle.
