August
“Where are we going?” I ask Brooks.
He squeezes my knee. “You’ll see.”
I’m blindfolded once again—him and his damn obsession with surprises. I try to gauge which direction we’re headed with the twists and turns I feel, but it’s incredibly disorienting, being unable to see like this, so I give up and embrace the surprise as we glide along what I think is a stretch of highway.
The summer sun burns my legs through the windows, so I feel around for my purse on the floorboard and place it in my lap. Brooks and I have been dating almost eight months now. Overall, I consider myself lucky. He didn’t have to sacrifice his friendship with Deacon to have me, because Deacon has accepted us. I can’t say the same for Deacon’s mother, however. She gets this spooked look on her face when I’m around. I guess she worries about my sanity, maybe thinks I’ll chase her down with a kitchen knife. I hope one day she’ll come around as Brooks’s parents have. They were extremely hesitant of Brooks’s forgiveness at first, but I grew on them, (a pun, ha!), and they’re actually really fond of me now. And even though they’re formal and wealthy and a little tense, they fill a bit of the space my parents left behind. So, I no longer have to worry about things like Thanksgiving dinners, Christmas, weekend cookouts, etc., because I have a place to go—a place I’m welcome, no matter what the future holds for Brooks and me.
I try to push my imagination aside, try not to think about what we could be and focus on what we are, but sometimes I crave more, and I suffer silently. I want him in my bed every night, want to feel him on top of my body every day. But we haven’t lived together yet. When he said slow, he meant it, and has verbally expressed not wanting to do anything that could possibly hurt me in the end.
And, of course, Sarah is my roommate now, so we would need a bigger place together to accommodate her. I tried to explain to her I’m not her actual, biological granddaughter, but frankly, she forgets things so easily that it became a wasted effort. So, I’m her granddaughter, and she’s Granny, and that’s that. She has gotten stronger since she has lived with me. She can’t move around quickly, but she enjoys doing some light things in the garden, and we watch Golden Girls marathons in our downtime—sometimes throwing in some Jersey Shore per her request. I don’t think she can see everything that’s going on, but she can hear it—mostly. I wonder what my parents think up there in heaven. They’d be in love with her. I know they would.
“All right, we’re here.”
“Where?” Grandma Sarah asks. “I can’t see a dadgum thing.”
“And you’re not even the one blindfolded!” I laugh.
She laughs, too, before Brooks gets out of the car. A silent pause before he opens both of our doors.
He helps Sarah first, her grumbling comical, and then his hands grip me. I trust him, steadying myself on my heels as I stand, my feet slightly unsteady as he guides me along uneven terrain with one hand on my arm and the other presumably on Sarah. After approximately fifty feet and a slight trek downhill, we stop.
“Okay, you can open your eyes. Take it off.”
I pull the blindfold from my face, allowing it to fall to the ground as I gasp, marveling at the rushing, clear water and the white sand of the bank.
The creek where Brooks and I spent our summer days together.
My hand rises to my chest. I feel as if I’m about to have a panic attack or pass out in his arms, crack my head against a rock. “Brooks, wh—why are we here?”
His tongue slips over his lips, and then he smiles at me. My stomach rolls, my hands tenting over my mouth at the sight of him lowering to the ground—getting on one knee. Oh my God, I think, my heart fraying as he takes my shaking hand.
“Ivy...” His voice doesn’t crack, but his eyes shine as he speaks. He pulls a folded, string-wrapped note from his pocket, holding it out. “Open it.”
I pull my hand from his, trembling as I tug on the jute and unfold it. I read the words, those words I’ve waited almost two decades for, and fall into his arms, almost knocking him over.
I think I love you, Ivy.
Tears spill from my eyes, and I’m a mess of sobs as he urges me back up and takes my hand again. “Ivy, I love you. I’ve always loved you. You were my best friend then, you’re my best friend now, and I’ve spent the last month doing my best to wait until today.”
I shake my head at him, confused, and he grins at me.
“Today is the first day we met—in Mr. Archibald’s class.” He laughs as a tear falls from my cheek. “It hasn’t been easy, and you went a little crazy there for a bit...” he says, providing us with comic relief, “but you are my soul mate. You never gave up on us, and I promise I won’t either—if you will accept.” He reaches into his pocket, producing a red velvet box, a round halo ring glinting inside. He takes it, pinching it between his fingers as he grabs for my left hand. “So, Ivy Hobbs … will you marry me?”
I blink away my tears. Stretch my fingers apart, and frown. “Hmm. I don’t know,” I say, before shrieking. “Are you kidding? Of course I will. Yes, yes, yes! Put it on me!”
He slips it on my finger, and I stare at it, absolutely in love with it. He stands, and his arms wrap around my back before he kisses me, our tongues searching for each other, our souls finally connected in the way destiny intended.
Throats clear. I look over to see Grandma.
“I may be old, but I ain’t totally blind yet,” she says. “Get a room.”
A laugh erupts in the distance. I turn my eyes toward the source and find … Jared, who has been recording the whole damn thing!
Brooks kisses me on the cheek, and then walks to Grandma Sarah, dropping to his knee once again. “I have something for you, too, Grandma.”
She beams, her eyes sparkling as he pulls out the mini figurine. “It’s your Asian Jesus.”
He places it in her hand, and she brings it close to her eyes, inspecting it all over. “Well, I’ll take it, but I’m not gonna marry ya.”
We all laugh, Brooks’s head turning back to me as he gets off the ground, unquestionable adoration, love, and forgiveness in his eyes as we lock gazes. We walk toward each other, meeting in the middle, his hands softly gripping my cheeks. “So, I don’t know how you would feel about it, but I kind of …sort of … already planned our honeymoon. But if you hate it, we can pick somewhere else, no problem.”
“Wow, I just got the ring, and you already have our post-wedding vacay mapped out?”
He cocks his head, mischief in his smile.
“Well, where is it? Where are we going?”
“I was thinking we could go to Chengdu and see the pandas together.”
I gasp, stopping dead in my tracks. “Brooks! That’s … that’s perfect. I love you.”
“I love you, too, babe.”
Our lips crush together, more grumbling from behind us as we drown them out, drunk in our love. When we break away, he plants a kiss on my forehead before we gaze into each other’s eyes. I feel so lucky to accept this ring without lies, without deception, and with his full forgiveness, because he remembered the good in me.
This is the happiest moment of my life, and it’s only the beginning. Brooks was the antidote to the poison I’d become.
I am going to be Mrs. Jansen.
I am, I am, I am.