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“I came to claim something that belongs to me.” I know I’m being cryptic, but I have no other option than to hope she remembers our words from eight years ago. She blinks but there’s no confirmation in their depths. She still doesn’t realise who I am or that it’s her I came for.
“The mayor’s daughter’s party is a funny place to be retrieving something, don’t you think?” she laughs, and I join her.
“No. It’s the perfect place,” I reply, my hand slowly moving lower down her back.
“Why is that?”
“You really don’t see it, little bird?” I ask, taking a deep breath, realising it’s now or never. I’m grabbing the bull by the horns and going for it.
“See what?” her voice wavers.
“It’s you. You’re what belongs to me,” I whisper, pulling her closer. Her body freezes and my heart rate picks up speed because I know I’ve said the wrong thing. I’m scaring her off and it’s the complete opposite of what I want to do.
The DJ comes over the microphone at that moment, stopping the music.
“We are going to have a short fifteen-minute break then we’ll be back to party the rest of the night away,” he says, before chatter begins around us.
I literally feel her slipping through my fingers as she pulls back, her now hardened eyes staring up at me.
“I belong to no one,” she spits out, through clenched teeth. She turns to rush away but I grab her hand and hold on.
“Please give me a chance,” I soften my voice, hoping she can hear the sentiment in it.
All the dancing people head back to the bar or tables since the music stopped. While she stares me down, the dance floor empties and the two of us are left standing there alone. I can feel eyes on me, but my eyes are only on her. I don’t know how to make it right, but I feel if I let her walk away right now, she will be walking away for good.
“No,” she abruptly says, pulling her hand and trying to leave. I don’t let go though. Instead, I push my other hand into my front pocket, covering the small box with my fingers.
“Marry me?” I softly say, so only she can hear. Watching her I see her eyes widen and it takes a second for her to start pulling her hand again, trying to free it from my grasp. I pull the velvet box free from my pocket and release her hand to open it. Her eyes follow my hands, seeing the box and I hear her gasp for air, before I drop to one knee and say loud enough for most of the room to hear, “Marry me?”
Other people gasp but my eyes never leave the girl in front of me. If this is what my gramps meant about grabbing the bull by the horns, then I’m grabbing them and holding on for dear life. This is by far the scariest, craziest thing I’ve ever done.
It feels like a lifetime passes as we stand there, looking at each other. Her with her wide-eyed expression and me holding open the box with my grandma's ring. She hasn’t looked at it. Her eyes haven’t left my face. Then I feel it. There’s a shift in the air. Her face drops and her eyes close. When they open again, she breaks the thread I’m hanging on to.
Shaking her head she says, “No,” before turning to rush away from me.
I don’t think, I react and yell out, “I’ll give you all of my Sundays,” for everybody to hear. The silence in the room is deafening. But it has the desired effect, and it makes her stop dead in her tracks. She hasn’t turned around yet but I wait. She’s got to remember this if nothing else because I wrote it on the list. A list I’ve looked over at least once a week for the last eight years.
Slowly she turns, her eyes scanning me as if she’s trying to decipher some code she didn’t see before. Does she remember?
“What did you say?” she whispers.
“I’ll give you all of my Sundays. From now until forever. You and me. Every Sunday,” I gently tell her. Hell, I would give her all my Saturdays too if it would make her say yes.
She lowers her gaze to the ring in the box. I'm holding it out to her still and her breath hitches again at the sight of it, and I know I’ve made the right choice. I’m not sure she’s aware but she’s slowly walking back like an invisible force is pulling her towards me. Her eyes have a glassy sheen over them now, like she’s holding back tears.
I remember when we made the pact that the Sunday thing was a big deal for her. I have no idea why but if that’s what she wants, she can have it.
Her eyes are back on me so I softly coax, “Marry me and you can have all of my Sundays.”
The faintest hint of a smile pulls the corner of her mouth up as she replies, “Okay. I’ll marry you.” My heart gets sucked into my throat and I nearly choke before it starts thundering like crazy in my chest.
“Really? You’ll marry me?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Yes,” she replies, which sends everyone around us exploding into cheers. My body on instinct moves and lifts her in the air, swinging her around. Her laughter surrounds me and brings the biggest smile to my face as she wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing. I squeeze her tightly back.
“I can’t believe you came back for me,” she whispers right into my ear, so only I can hear.
“I told you I was coming for what belonged to me,” I whisper right back, kissing her neck before swinging her around again. Placing her feet on the ground, I take my grandma’s ring from the box and slide it onto her finger. It’s big but we can get it resized.
