The Engagement: Part 4

Details, details. Read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 if that’s your kinda thing.

WE CUT THROUGH THE TEMPLE GROUNDS to get to our carriage. I don’t remember the driver’s name, but the big dark Clydesdale with the white socks was named Liberty, and she was the only mare of the entire carriage fleet.

Kevin hopped in and gave me a hand up. There were wool blankets on the seat across from us and he grabbed those and threw them over our lap, tucking them under my thighs and around my calves and making sure my feet were covered. I couldn’t figure out why he was so fussy over making sure I was warm. Who cared if I was cold? I was too busy being perfectly happy.

Our ride started out at the Temple and branched out from there, heading what I believe was North-East to the houses near the Capitol building. Our Clydesdale moved slowly through the streets while cars flew past, and for the first few minutes it scared me. I’m used to horses that spook, that freak out over the little things, but this particular mare could care less about the huge diesel that asked to race us (we won. For two seconds). I felt like royalty, being the center of attention as we passed people on the sidewalk and I turned my head into Kevin’s neck to hide. I was glad he couldn’t see me blush, but I was sure he could probably feel the heat radiating off of my cheeks.

I talked to the driver a bit about Liberty, how often they have to shoe her, where the stables are. The streetlights gradually shortened and grew farther apart as the expensive condos turned into old houses and the road forked, leaving a park and stream in the middle. The driver turned Liberty down a road named Memory Grove.

How perfect could it get?

I had no idea.

We were snuggled, whispering even though the steady clip-clop of hooves on the pavement would have drowned out our voices anyway. I don’t remember what we were talking about at the moment. I whispered something about it being perfect and then it was quiet for a bit other than the noises of the horse ahead of us.

“I have something I want you to read,” Kevin grabbed a folded piece of paper out of his back pocket and handed it to me.

“The receipt?” I joked. I couldn’t help it.

“Good one! No. Read it out loud.” And so I did, under the dim yellow lights of those street lamps, I started reading the letter that my love had written for me. A letter so sweet I choked up in the first few words.

It was the best thing I’d ever read in my life.

There were a few times I had to stop reading when the streetlight waned behind us. “There’s a pause here,” I murmured. I could sense that he’d moved while I was reading, and that his left hand was out of his pocket and on top of the blanket, but I didn’t allow myself to look. I kept my eyes glued to that dark, fragile, amazing piece of paper until I could see enough to read again. We were interrupted once more by the streetlight, this time when I was near the end of the letter.

This is the only part of that letter you’ll ever see.

But it’s one of the best parts.

I love you more than life itself,
So here’s my big question…

“Will you marry me?” Were his quiet words when I lifted my eyes up to meet his. I looked at down at his hand – which was in his lap holding a ring box, the diamond sparkling brilliantly even in the darkness.

I thought I was prepared for this moment. I thought I’d say something witty, or something sweet, or even just scream ‘YES!’ for all the world to hear. But I realized you can’t really be ready for that moment. I wasn’t prepared for the way blood rushed to my face, for the way my hands instantly grabbed his face and pulled it to mine. I kissed him twice before I realized I could still feel the question sitting on his lips, hanging there unanswered.

“Yes,” I breathed back. Kissed him again. “Yes yes yes. A thousand times yes.”

He chuckled in relief and kissed me back, but I couldn’t see his face anymore. My eyes had misted over.

Continue to Part 5