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Authors: Ember Casey
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there. Funny how one tiny little thing could make me so damn nervous. If my fingers weren’t covered in paint, I’d pull out the ring again. Pull it out of its tiny velvet bag and hold it up so I can watch it sparkle beneath the light. Give myself another pep talk.
Lou loves me , I remind myself. You already live together. You have a daughter together. And she’s the sweetest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, our little Ramona. She’s got Lou’s eyes and nose, and my family’s red hair. Lou’s given her my name, too— Ramona Grace Brannon. But Lou is still Louisa Cunningham , and I’d do anything to change that.
The question is—would Lou?
We talked about marriage a dozen different times before the baby came. I was all for it. Lou, on the other hand, wanted to wait. She said she didn’t want to rush things between us. I’m pretty sure she was afraid I only wanted to marry her because she was pregnant. But fuck me, if that isn’t the furthest thing from the truth. I love her. I’ve always loved her. And baby or no baby, I want her to be my wife. I want to know that she and Ramona will be taken care of if anything happens to me. And I want her to be mine forever.
It’s been almost ten months since I’ve raised the issue. At first I meant to give her a little time and space to think about it, and then after Ramona came, that little squirt became our priority. But tomorrow is Christmas Eve, our first one as a family, and if that isn’t the perfect time to propose, then I don’t know what is.
My hand goes to my pocket again. This time, it’s going to be different. For one thing, this time it’s going to be an actual proposal , not just a conversation. And this time I actually have a ring to give her. It’s no wonder she never accepted me before—I treated marriage like a practical decision, not a romantic one. She had every reason to believe I was thinking with my head, not my heart, and Lou would never settle for that kind of arrangement. I won’t make that mistake again.
But as I gather up the painting supplies, I start to grow uncertain. There’s still the matter of how I’m going to do this. I’ve been thinking about this for over a year, but I don’t feel even the slightest bit prepared. I’ve picked the date. I’ve got the ring. But how the hell do I pop the question? Whenever I try to come up with some sort of plan, my mind goes blank. Is it enough to just get down on one knee after dinner? Or would she prefer something more… creative? Maybe I can wrap up the ring and place it beneath the tree and pretend it’s just a normal gift until the moment she opens it…
Nah. That doesn’t seem special enough. And as much as I enjoy the company of Lily and Calder, this is one thing I’d rather do in private.
Maybe instead I can set up a bunch of candles in the spa. Play some romantic music over the speakers. Leave a trail of rose petals across the tiles to one of the back rooms, where I’ll be waiting on bended knee…
But I brush off that idea, too. It might be romantic, but it’s also cheesy as hell. And it doesn’t sound like Lou. And that’s my problem: if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what kind of proposal Lou would want, and that scares the crap out of me. Every idea I have seems stupid or corny. And I’m running out of time.
How the hell do other guys do this? How the hell do I do this?
It’s the question that’s been haunting me all week. The one that’s made me nervous and jumpy and yeah, a little sick to my stomach. I’ve done everything I can to keep myself busy, to keep myself from freaking out, but nothing has helped. I’ve spent two days repainting this room—and that’s about ten times longer than it should have taken me. I glance at the spot I was working on when Lily walked in on me. The paint is so thick it’s dripping down the wall. I must have gone over that same patch a hundred times before she startled me out of my thoughts.
I’ve faced worse
Lou loves me , I remind myself. You already live together. You have a daughter together. And she’s the sweetest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, our little Ramona. She’s got Lou’s eyes and nose, and my family’s red hair. Lou’s given her my name, too— Ramona Grace Brannon. But Lou is still Louisa Cunningham , and I’d do anything to change that.
The question is—would Lou?
We talked about marriage a dozen different times before the baby came. I was all for it. Lou, on the other hand, wanted to wait. She said she didn’t want to rush things between us. I’m pretty sure she was afraid I only wanted to marry her because she was pregnant. But fuck me, if that isn’t the furthest thing from the truth. I love her. I’ve always loved her. And baby or no baby, I want her to be my wife. I want to know that she and Ramona will be taken care of if anything happens to me. And I want her to be mine forever.
It’s been almost ten months since I’ve raised the issue. At first I meant to give her a little time and space to think about it, and then after Ramona came, that little squirt became our priority. But tomorrow is Christmas Eve, our first one as a family, and if that isn’t the perfect time to propose, then I don’t know what is.
My hand goes to my pocket again. This time, it’s going to be different. For one thing, this time it’s going to be an actual proposal , not just a conversation. And this time I actually have a ring to give her. It’s no wonder she never accepted me before—I treated marriage like a practical decision, not a romantic one. She had every reason to believe I was thinking with my head, not my heart, and Lou would never settle for that kind of arrangement. I won’t make that mistake again.
But as I gather up the painting supplies, I start to grow uncertain. There’s still the matter of how I’m going to do this. I’ve been thinking about this for over a year, but I don’t feel even the slightest bit prepared. I’ve picked the date. I’ve got the ring. But how the hell do I pop the question? Whenever I try to come up with some sort of plan, my mind goes blank. Is it enough to just get down on one knee after dinner? Or would she prefer something more… creative? Maybe I can wrap up the ring and place it beneath the tree and pretend it’s just a normal gift until the moment she opens it…
Nah. That doesn’t seem special enough. And as much as I enjoy the company of Lily and Calder, this is one thing I’d rather do in private.
Maybe instead I can set up a bunch of candles in the spa. Play some romantic music over the speakers. Leave a trail of rose petals across the tiles to one of the back rooms, where I’ll be waiting on bended knee…
But I brush off that idea, too. It might be romantic, but it’s also cheesy as hell. And it doesn’t sound like Lou. And that’s my problem: if I’m being honest, I’m not sure what kind of proposal Lou would want, and that scares the crap out of me. Every idea I have seems stupid or corny. And I’m running out of time.
How the hell do other guys do this? How the hell do I do this?
It’s the question that’s been haunting me all week. The one that’s made me nervous and jumpy and yeah, a little sick to my stomach. I’ve done everything I can to keep myself busy, to keep myself from freaking out, but nothing has helped. I’ve spent two days repainting this room—and that’s about ten times longer than it should have taken me. I glance at the spot I was working on when Lily walked in on me. The paint is so thick it’s dripping down the wall. I must have gone over that same patch a hundred times before she startled me out of my thoughts.
I’ve faced worse
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