It’s a Tuesday. Nothing romantic happens on Tuesdays. Nobody expects for anything romantic to happen on a Tuesday. But he was more romantic on that Tuesday than I could ever imagine.
I race home, trying to beat the clock so I can jump on an early evening conference call. Park my car, enter the door, and find myself welcomed by rose petals in the entrance way, leading up the staircase. They’re everywhere, like they fell from the sky in lieu of a thunderstorm. They trail neatly up the stairs, around the bend, and up to the top floor of our house.
I’m speechless.
The bedroom door is tucked in, so I can’t see what lay behind it. I follow the flowers down the hall, slowly breathe in each step, and gently push the door open to find him, my Adam, in a jacket and tie with flickering candles adorning the room and bouquets of vivid red roses on each night stand. We met at the pile of petals shaped like a heart – the end of the path trailing my house.
You cheated, I say, my smile giving me away. We agreed –- no gifts.
It is our two-year anniversary. Every gift-giving season (and even when gifts really aren’t in order) he manages to surprise me. And so every time I try to beat him and lose (yes, gift giving is a competition). So we’ve made a habit of agreeing we wouldn’t buy each other gifts, but doing it anyway.
I didn’t cheat, he replied.
This is amazing. Thank you.
We kissed and my eyes followed the scent of the petals, the dancing lights, the baby’s breath. Now it’s not just me who is speechless. My heart pounds so hard my thoughts lose focus.
Liv, there’s a question you’ve been asking a lot lately, and I want to give you an answer.
I take a deep breath.
Yes, I do want kids… or kid.
He stammers, realizing he just gave me kids (plural).
But only if we do this right.
He’s reaching in his pocket, pulls out a box, and next thing I know is on one knee.
Liv, will you marry me?
And now I'm on my knees with him, grasping for the amazing ring, kissing him, telling him I love him, and saying yes. Absolutely yes.
