Page 107 of Waiting for the Flood


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“Yes?”

“I… I meant to. It was supposed to be. I have a—I bought a—I wanted it to be the perfect moment.”

It took me a second but then I knew. If there was anything I understood, it was gaps and silences and hesitations. Desperate to say something but not knowing how. Not knowing if you could. So I waited. I waited for him to speak.

“Edwin,” he tried again. His face was as red as an emergency beacon. Redder even than his own hair. “Will you marry me?”

“You know the answer to that.”

He smiled at me, star bright. “Aye. But I still want to hear you say it.”

And I did.

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