by Vesper Young
Men.
I flipped through one. Graphic T-shirts, socks, nothing exciting. The next one had more of a mix. I sorted through object by object, stopping when I saw a stretch of navy fabric.
It couldn’t be.
I pulled the fabric, which was actually a pillow, out. Blinked once. Twice.
“Hey, babe, have you seen a magnet anywhere?”
I turned around, seeing Luke in the door frame. “You kept this? After all these years?”
The fabric was soft in my hands. I’d picked it out nearly a decade ago for that reason. That, the fact the navy fabric complimented college geek chic, and the fact it was emblazoned with the yellow text of “Star Wars,” Luke’s favorite franchise.
I’d assumed he’d gotten rid of it on some move. It was a decade-old novelty pillow after all. But here it was, ten years later, after we’d found our way back to each other.
Lucas entered the room, his steps slow and deliberate. His hand caressed the pillow, fingers winding up my arm until he was pulling me close.
“Of course I kept it. I could never part with anything that reminded me of you. Including my own heart.”
My heart pounded faster and faster. Being this close to him was as intoxicating as the first night we’d met. Maybe more. When he said things like not being able to part with any connection to me, it was difficult to remember to breathe.
“I love you,” I blurted out.
He chuckled, glanced at the pillow and said, “I know.”
“You did not just quote Star Wars at me.”
He chuckled low, into my ears, making my toes curl. Then, in a voice entirely dissimilar to his own, went, “Quote Star Wars, did I?”
“Ugh,” I growled, pushing Lucas away. Not that I really wanted to be anywhere but his arms. “I can’t believe I’m gonna marry you.”
Lucas chuckled. “I can. I can picture you saying yes when I propose so clearly it’s torture.”
I laughed. Less because it was funny and more because when you’re in love, sometimes the only sound that comes out is a laugh. “You’re gonna have to get started on ring shopping if you ever want that proposal accepted.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?”
“Hmm,” he repeated. “This would’ve been a lot more awkward if you started unpacking with that box.”
I followed his finger over to a box in the corner. It looked like all the other cardboard boxes in the room, but I was willing to play along. I made my way over to it, caressing the cardboard like it might somehow be completely different, but it was cardboard and tape like every other box before it.
The scissors made quick work of the tape. Then came layers of bubble wrap. Not the usual one or two, but dozens and dozens until I made my way to the base of the box.
There, wrapped with a silk ribbon, was a black velvet box. Tears sprung to my eyes, knowing exactly what it was.
“Of course, I’m sure it’s too soon to propose, but something for you to look forward to in the next year, yeah?”
God help me, apparently, I was marrying a comedian.
“Lucas Northman, if you don’t ask me to marry you right now, I swear I’ll propose to myself and make you marry me this week.”
He blinked at me. “I was joking about the year thing, but I also didn’t plan to make you go digging for the ring yourself. I just put it there so you wouldn’t find it when moving things to the dresser. I’d planned a much nicer proposal for when we finally finished unpacking.”
I grabbed the box, holding it between us. “Lucas, we’ve wasted enough time, trying to make things perfect for the other. Let’s just do it together. Marriage. Life. Everything. I want it now, and I’m too impatient to wait any longer.”
The ring didn’t matter. The apartment didn’t matter. The only thing that I cared about was the man in front of me.
He grinned and grabbed the box from my hand.
“Then let’s not waste any more time. Kara Louise Iver, will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
He flipped the box open, pulling out the ring. I held out my hand, but truthfully, I didn’t even look at the stupidly big rock. All I could see was the utter love and devotion in his eyes. This was a man who would never abandon me. I loved him for it. Just like I loved him for his smile and his teasing humor and his razor-sharp intelligence.
Lucas didn’t stay kneeling for long. One moment he was on the ground, the next he was on his feet, lifting me with him until my legs were wrapped around his waist. The remaining boxes were swept off the bed in a desperate motion.
I looked up Lucas. I love you, I thought at him, and I saw every ounce of that love reflected back.
Our love wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t always easy. There’d be challenges and fights and family drama. But we’d face it together. That was all I’d ever needed.
In the end, we didn’t finish unpacking that day. I didn’t regret a moment of it.
And I made damn sure Lucas didn’t either.
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