Livvy

  “Hi! I didn’t expect to see you here.” He meets me at my car to kiss me.

  “I can wait at the loft, if you want some time alone with your parents. I just thought this would be easiest for you.”

  “No, it’s cool. It’s perfect.” I smile at him, raising my eyebrows. “It’s okay with you?”

  “If you tell me that you’re sleeping here tonight, I might have an issue with it...”

  “Can we stay late?” I ask him. “And maybe come back for breakfast?”

  “Olivia, I’m kidding. I mean it, if you need time with them, take as much as you need. But if I can have a few hours of your time today, it might change your mind about how you want to handle tomorrow.”

  “Why?”

  “Can I have a few hours?”

  “Can I see my parents first?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure.”

  “I need a shower, too.”

  “You should do that first,” he suggests, taking my keys and opening the front door for me. “I’ll wait. I hear some of your cousins will be stopping by.”

  “Great!” Mom and Dad meet me in the hallway, both giving me hugs that last longer than normal.

  “Did you pick up Jon?” Mom asks.

  “No, uh,” he stutters, “I just got here, too. Good timing, I guess.”

  I head down to the basement, grabbing some clean clothes from my bedroom and taking out a few of the toiletries I’d brought back with me from school. After showering, I decide to dry and curl my hair, anticipating company. The curls bring my hair back above my shoulders. I run my fingers through it, trying to relax the curls enough to make my hair look longer. I will never cut my hair again.

  When I get upstairs, Dad and Trey are in the kitchen looking at pictures from his year-end party at school. Dad’s teasing him about some little girl in his class. He keeps denying that she likes him, clearly disgusted at the notion.

  “Where’s Jon?”

  “He had to run an errand,” Dad says.

  “Oh. Well, where’s Mom?”

  “She had to go with him.”

  “What? Where?”

  “They don’t tell me anything.”

  “Right.”

  “I asked them not to, because I knew you’d try to get it out of me.”

  “Trey, do you know?”

  He nods his head with a silly grin. “But he gave me a ticket to a Yankees game so I won’t tell you.”

  “A ticket?”

  “I get to go with Max and Will and their mom.”

  “That’s nice that he’s taking you to a game... but I bet I can get it out of you.”

  “He’s not taking me–” My dad puts his palm over my brother’s mouth.

  “This is just the kind of thing he’s bribing you not to say,” my dad tells him.

  “He’s not taking you?” I ask Trey, but Dad won’t let him answer.

  “I’m taking him,” my father says. “We’re all going. It’s a Holland/Scott adventure. It should be fun. Right, Jackson?”

  “Right, Daddy.”

  “You can’t drink around her,” I warn him.

  “Tessa, I know. I’ve been in the loop on all this, remember?”

  “Just checking. It’s just too soon to put her in that situation. Jon’s really worried.”

  “Well, when we’re around her, there will be no alcohol anywhere to be found.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Jon and my mother come in together through the front door.

  “Hey, baby.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “We just picked up my mom and brothers from the airport,” he says.

  “They’re here already?”

  “She’s looking for a place.”

  “Where are they?”

  “They wanted to unpack their things at the hotel. They’ll be by later, if that’s okay. Mom wants to give you a nice send-off.”

  “Of course! That’s sweet of her. I can’t wait to see her. You should have told me. You can go spend time with them, if you want. I’m fine here.”

  “I’ll probably spend some time with them tomorrow.”

  “Oh,” I say, a little surprised.

  “Again. A few hours with me today, and I promise our plans will change for tomorrow.”

  “What is going on with you?”

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  I look at both of my parents, knowing they expect me for dinner. “I can cook tomorrow,” Dad says. “Maybe you could swing by here for dessert. Kelly and Thomas are coming over this evening. I heard she was bringing some cupcakes.”

  Now I look back at Jon. He nods, seeming surprisingly agreeable to the idea.

  The afternoon is very casual and laid back, with my family members coming by randomly to tell me goodbye and wish me luck. Jon’s family comes early in the day. Our brothers play outside with Steven’s boys. Other guests join them in brief spurts, but most people seem to be very focused on me. I feel like I’ve answered the same questions thirty times, and likely have. Still, I’m happy to see everyone and will miss them all dearly.

  I get Jon alone for a few minutes, closing the door to my room and sitting next to him on the bed.

  “Hey, your family shouldn’t stay in a hotel while they’re in between homes, Jon. They’re welcome to stay with you at the loft, if you want them there. You don’t need my permission or anything to have guests. I hope you know that.”

  “I’d hoped... but I wasn’t going to make any assumptions. I’ll suggest it to Mom. But for the next two nights, I think I’ll let them stay at the Courtyard.”

  “Okay,” I say softly, smiling at him. “I’m really gonna miss you, Jon.” I start crying immediately. “I really don’t know that I can do this.”

  “Shhh, baby, shhh,” he says with a light chuckle. “Of course you can do this. In the grand scheme of the universe, you know, I’ll be very close by.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “Please don’t cry, Olivia.” He holds me close to his chest and strokes my hair. “Don’t. I hate seeing you sad.” He tries to angle my face to see his, but I stay focused on the ground, not wanting him to see my tears. “Fine,” he says, letting go of me and kneeling in front of me. He looks up at me, forcing me to look him in the eyes.

  “I don’t want the strain of this distance to be the cause of stress to you, baby. I don’t want you to have it hanging over you that you’re bound to some guy five thousand miles away. I don’t want you to stop living your life because of me.”

  “I can’t help it, Jon. Of course it bothers me that you’ll be so far. Maybe I made the wrong decision. What if we can’t make it through this?”

  He touches the promise ring on my finger, then puts his fingers around it starts to slip it off my finger.

  “No, Jon–” I try to curl my finger to stop him, but he holds it straight and pulls off the ring. “What are you doing? Don’t do this!”

  “I always thought I’d jumped the gun when I made you those promises, Olivia.”

  “No!”

  “We were young and stupid, and we’ve both learned so much about ourselves since that awful Christmas at your house.” Stupefied, I’m frozen, not believing what he’s doing to me again.

  “This is it, though, Jon! We’ve been saying–”

  He puts his finger over my mouth. I see my ring pushed onto the tip of his index finger and want it back. When I reach for it, he pulls my hands away.

  “Don’t cry, baby.”

  “But I don’t want this,” I tell him through sobs.

  “Okay,” he says with a smile, letting go of my hands. “I just want you to know you have options. That’s all. I don’t want you to feel bound to me; to feel obligated to be with me.”

  “I don’t feel obligated, Jon, I–” He puts the same finger over my mouth again, holding it there. I see something blue glisten when he starts to pull his hand away. He tucks his finger under my chin, looking directly in my eyes.

  “I said I’m
giving you another option.” Again, a flash of blue hits the corner of my eye, and I strain to see where it came from when he curls his hand into a fist.

  “What is that?” I ask him, holding his hand in mine. My eyes don’t break from his, but I feel my ring on his finger... only it’s not my ring. When I look down, he obscures the object from me again. I glance back up, confused.

  “I know I made a good choice the day I asked your dad if he’d allow me to take you out. Young and stupid as I was, I don’t regret that.”

  My eyes redirect again to his hands in his lap.

  “What is that?” I ask him again.

  “This is your choice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Livvy, you are going to go see the world. It’s what I’ve always wanted for you. You’ll be presented with so many opportunities, and I don’t want to play into the decisions you are faced with anymore, if you don’t want me to. I know how hard it is to be away from someone you love. It’s easier to think you didn’t leave someone behind. So your first option is that we can take some time apart to allow you to experience new things, whatever comes your way. I’ll wait for you, if you want me back when you come back, just like you waited for me last year.”

  “I don’t like that option, Jon,” I cry. “I hate it. What’s the other one?”

  “The other choice you have... we can stay together. You can accept my promise to be steadfast and patient and understanding and faithful–if you can promise me the same in return.”

  “That’s the one I want. I want my ring back, Jon. I want my promises back–” He stops me again, putting his damned finger over my mouth for the third time. “Jon, I–” He moves his hand away and presses his lips to mine instead. When I pull away, his finger’s pointing to the sky, but when he rotates it around, I don’t see my tiny diamond ring anymore.

  “But I have new promises to give you, Olivia,” he tells me as I try to process the sight in front of me. “And those come with a new ring.”

  “Jon?” He shifts on the carpet, staying on one knee and putting his other foot flat on the floor. I know that stance. Is that an engagement ring? Is he going to propose to me? “Jon?!”

  “Shhh,” he says. “This was all supposed to happen later tonight, so I’m not as rehearsed as I’d like to be. I just can’t see you cry like that anymore.”

  “Jon!” I hug him, forcing him off his knees and into a cross-legged position on the carpet. I sit in his lap, wrapping my legs around his body, wanting to be as close as I can get to him so I can kiss him. That’s all I want to do. Tears still falling, I taste them as our lips move together. “Is that a...”

  I don’t finish my sentence, realizing he has something to say to me. I look back down at the ring, running my thumb over a big, blue stone flanked by a diamond on each side. It’s stunning.

  “Look at me,” he says. I do as he asks, still crying and nodding my head, giving him my answer already. He wouldn’t have to say a word to convince me to agree to this option, but he does.

  “When I was eleven, and you were nine, I tripped on my shoelace and spilled paint on the floor at the Art Room. I was so embarrassed. While everyone else laughed at me, you pulled your pretty pink sweater off the back of your chair and used it to clean up the mess. The floor was clean by the time I returned with a roll of paper towels. Donna wasn’t too pleased, but her disapproval didn’t seem to matter one bit to you. ‘I did what was right.’ That’s what you told her. Do you remember that?”

  “Not really,” I admit. I only remember the sweater.

  “I liked you a lot before that day. You were the cutest girl I’d ever seen. But that day was the first day that I felt true solidarity with another human being. And it felt so damn good. To know someone had my back was the most comforting feeling in the world.

  “From that day on, I made sure I did the same for other people around me, wanting to make other people feel the way you made me feel. You changed me that day.

  “And every day since, Olivia, you’ve changed me.

  “I’ll never forget that afternoon when I went in to remove myself from the art program. I walked into the room thirty minutes after class had started, and everyone turned, staring at me. Of course they knew my father had just passed away... but they just watched me like I was a freak show. Kids who were my friends two weeks before didn’t know how to act around me anymore.

  “You took me to the back office to talk to Donna, but before we got there–”

  “I didn’t know how to act either. I just hugged you,” I tell him.

  “You didn’t just hug me. You had the most open, most welcoming countenance that day, and I cried. For the first time since he’d died, I cried in that hallway. I felt like I could have told you everything. I wanted to, but I knew I didn’t have to. It seemed like you could feel everything I felt, because you cried, too.”

  “I didn’t know how you felt,” I explain. “To have a father, and then lose him... but I felt like I understood better after I held you. It’s weird, but I was imagining that your tears held all your sadness, and when they touched my neck and my shoulder, they seeped beneath my skin and into my consciousness. I could understand you, and I was hoping to take away some of the pain.”

  Jon smiles. “I don’t know how it happens with you, but you do have a way to emote that transcends what most people feel. That’s something that’s so special about your art.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I love you,” he says. “There are hundreds of moments like this that we’ve shared. Time after time, I would think that there was something extraordinary about us. Not about you. Not about how I felt about you. But about us. It gave me so much confidence that I faced your dad not once, but twice, to make sure I was the first guy who’d get to prove his worth to you.

  “Because you’d already proven your worth to me.”

  I swallow back more tears, a little overwhelmed.

  “We grew up together, Olivia. With only a few years separating us, we went from children to teenagers, and teenagers to adults. We helped each other along in subtle ways that really didn’t seem so spectacular until you look back now and see where those moments got us.

  “I am so grateful for you, baby. For sharing yourself with me. For sharing your paints,” he says, wiping away a tear. “Your winter hats when I wouldn’t have one on snowy days. Your contemplative silence. Your suggestions when we’d create together. Your optimism. Your constructive criticism. Your after school snacks.”

  “I was grateful you’d eat the celery sticks Dad would send me. So grateful,” I return, laughing.

  “...for your first date,” he continues, “and your first kiss. The stability of your two loving parents. Your big crazy family.”

  “The one that’s upstairs,” I remind him.

  “The one and only,” he nods, kissing me again. “I’m grateful you shared your time with me. Your theories. Your innocence,” he adds blushing. “Your gentle touch. Your love... and most importantly, your life. You could choose to spend this lifetime with anyone–or even alone–”

  “But I choose you,” I tell him. “Choisie.” I touch my necklace.

  “Choisie,” he repeats. “And for that, I’m most grateful. Olivia, give me the chance to find a million more reasons to be grateful for who you are, and what you do, and what you give to my life.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, feeling his hands pick up my left one. His thumb brushes against my ring finger, the one that held his promises.

  “I’m choosing you to be my one and only bride, Olivia. And if you still choose me, with my faults and shortcomings, I promise you the world. I will work hard so you’ll never want for anything. I promise to be attentive every day. To love you every day. To honor you every day. To never be too far away from you.”

  “Five thousand miles,” I say, feeling even sadder in this moment realizing I’ll be leaving behind a fiancé. In a way, though, I feel like we’re stronger, as if the bond is sturdier and harder f
or either of us to break.

  Jon shakes his head. He kisses me again, with all the assurance he can muster. “No, I promise to never be too far away from you. How does two hundred miles sound?”

  “It sounds like you’re teasing me,” I tell him.

  “I got a summer job in Curitiba. It’s a forty minute flight. I can spend Thursday nights to Sundays with you every week, if you’ll have me...”

  “Oh, Jon!” I exclaim, kissing his lips and his chin and his jaw and his cheeks and everywhere I can reach.

  He’s laughing at me. “I think you’re more excited about that than about this,” he says, holding up the ring between us.

  “Finding out you’ll be close eases my current insecurities,” I tell him. “Finding out you’ll be with me for the rest of our lives ensures that I won’t have to face any future insecurities alone anymore. So trust me, I’m excited about both... I’m just pacing myself with this... with this... wait, is it a proposal?” I finally ask him.

  “Have I convinced you that I’ll be a good partner?”

  “The best and the only one,” I respond.

  “Then, Olivia Holland, I would be forever grateful if you would choose me as your husband, because I want you to be my wife.”

  “Okay,” I whisper, finding it difficult to speak with the lump in my throat.

  “Will you marry me? Someday. It doesn’t have to be soon,” he says quickly. “Just someday.”

  “Of course,” I choke out in a sob as he slides the beautiful ring on my finger. After we both look at it for a few seconds, my lips find his, and we kiss sweetly through smiles for at least ten minutes.

  “I just want you to know that this is what I want, and that I’ll respect what we have as if those vows have already been exchanged.”

  “Yes, yes, yes, okay, yes!”

  “Do you like the ring?”

  “It’s incredible.”

  “I remember you telling me about the green ring Jack gave to Emi when he proposed. I thought I’d keep tradition alive... it seems to have worked well for them.”

  “I love the sentiment, too,” I say, admiring it.

  “It’s Brazilian Tourmaline.”

  “It’s gorgeous... I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”