- The way Aaron took quiet phone calls out in the garage, his voice dropping the second I opened the door.
- The locked drawer in his desk that he said held « old tax stuff. »
- The name « Vanessa » that flashed across his phone one night, which he explained away as a coworker.
« You’re not the jealous type, are you, baby? » my long-term boyfriend asked, smiling.
I wasn’t. I made sure of that.
A quiet list was writing itself.
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. »
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