Then, last spring, on a random Tuesday, Aaron got down on one knee in our kitchen.
There were no candles or big speeches. Just him, looking up at me with wet eyes.
« I’m sorry it took so long, » he whispered. « Marry me. »
I sobbed into his shoulder until my ribs hurt. I thought I’d hit the jackpot and that every excuse, delay, and « not yet » had been the price of something real.
« I’m sorry it took so long. »
We got married that fall in a tiny ceremony.
Megan was my maid of honor. Diane sat in the front row and dabbed her eyes like an actress.
Our first anniversary was last Friday.
I want you to remember that date because the night I thought was the happiest of my life became the night every story I’d ever told myself fell apart.
I want you to remember that date.
