Chapter 38
“This is what you were so excited about?” I ask, standing in front of Ash & Thorn—the local dive bar on the outskirts of Crimson Valley.
It’s been three months since John and I decided to spend the next year navigating the waters of not quite being just friends but not quite being together, either.
Three months of only seeing each other once a week, and sometimes not even that much if the company doesn’t require him to show up for the weekly Monday taping.
Three months of talking on the phone for five minutes here and there before one of us gets interrupted.
We had Monday Night Rage in Alexandria last night, and today is the first time in three months John didn’t have to jump on a red-eye flight Tuesday morning to get back to New Mexico.
He practically got down on his knees last night begging me to let him tag along to visit my family today.
He crashed in my room last night and was asleep before his head hit the pillow, but just knowing he was beside me was more than enough.
The comforting weight and security of his presence are things I have been missing for years, and I never miss the opportunity to relish in them.
This morning, he woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, bringing me a coffee before I could even get out of bed, asking if we could make a pit stop on the way home. He refused to tell me where we were going, but when I saw the twinkle in his eye, I couldn’t say no.
“My old college dive bar?” I ask, looking up at him.
“And the place where we met,” John says.
I shake my head with a small smile. “You’re a sap.”
He shrugs. “I’m sentimental, sue me.”
I walk through the door he holds open, and it feels like I’m transported back in time.
The inside looks exactly the same. Smells the same, too.
Musty and musky with a twinge of cigarette smoke they’ve never been able to get out of the wood ceiling, even this long after smoking indoors was outlawed.
A few patrons belly up to the bar—two enjoy a liquid lunch, watching the sports channel, three others eat burgers—and a group of girls who can’t be older than I was when I first walked through the door huddle in the corner with cocktails in hand.
One of them catches sight of us, and her eyes widen.
She kicks her friend under the table, earning a glare before she points toward us.
Soon, five pairs of eyes are on us, and I wiggle my fingers in a small wave before John guides me to the bar, unaware of our admirers across the room.
The bartender approaches, and we order a pair of burgers and two beers before I feel the weight of his hand on my thigh.
He jumps under my touch when I place my hand on his wrist, but he doesn’t pull away.
He’s been like this all day. Jumpy. Spacey.
I noticed it this morning when I came out of the bathroom.
He practically jumped out of his skin when I leaned in for a kiss, too lost in thought to realize I had been calling his name.
I turn his hand over and caress the faded black ink on his wrist—the simple black heart with SJ in the center. Leaning in, I ask, “Are you okay?”
John takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and exhales. Before I can ask him again, he kisses me. It’s a soft, gentle kiss, but it melts away the anxiety I’ve been feeling all morning. “Marry me,” he whispers against my lips.
Did he just…Did he ask me to marry him? I pull back with wide eyes. What does he mean, marry him?
“John…You can’t—Are you…You’re serious? You can’t be serious.”
“Wanna bet?” John sets a small blue box on the bar between us, and I must look between it and him five times. Every time I meet his stare, his smile grows wider, until I can’t look away from him, even when he pops open the lid.
“Savannah Williams, marry me.” The words bring tears to my eyes.
“I was drawn to you from the second I saw you in this bar eleven years ago. Call me crazy, but I’ve known from the moment I met you that you were the one.
You weren’t going to be like other girls…
and you’ve proven me right. You prove me right every day.
I don’t want to go a day without you. I love you. ”
“But…I thought—”
“If these last three months have done anything, it’s proved that I don’t want to go without you. Even if that means flying you in and out of New Mexico in between shows or flying to you for five hours between shoots before turning back around, I don’t care.”
I try to find a reason I should say no, like we haven’t been back together that long, but that seems silly.
We were together for almost five years before and have been friends for twice as long.
He knows me better than anyone, better than myself most days, and he makes me want to be a better person—to be a better me.
The longer I try to find a reason to say no, I can only find reasons to say…
“Yes.”
John smiles, and his mouth covers mine. He slides the ring onto my finger, and I gasp when I finally look at it.
A sparkling double halo surrounds at least a five-carat cushion-cut center stone that rests atop a diamond-studded band.
This is the exact ring I’ve always wanted, but…
I’ve never told him about this. We never even looked at rings.
“John, where did you get this?”
“I’ve had it.”
My gaze lifts. “You’ve had it?”
“I had it made before…everything happened. I was going to propose at New Year’s.
Actually, I was going to propose before that—way before that—but the timing never worked out.
” My heart clenches at the confession, and it reminds me of what Mamá told me that night on the hotel terrace before Wrestlefest. He’d already asked my parents for their blessing.
“I’ve always known, Sav. It was always you.
From the second we walked out of this bar… it was always going to be you.”
“You didn’t even know me.”
“But I wanted to. I would’ve found you. Actually, I started trying to, but in the end, I didn’t have to try very hard because you were stalking me,” John says with a toothy grin.
I smack his chest. “I was not!”
John chuckles, reaching down to grip the bottom of my chair and dragging the stool closer to him. “No, you weren’t, but that would make a pretty good story.”
“Please don’t give Amos any ideas.”
Pushing my hair behind my ear, his fingers trace the line of my jaw before he lifts my chin. “Happy birthday, Sweetheart.”
“That’s Mrs. Brooks,” I say, lifting my left hand in the air, and the light catches on the stone.
He laughs and leans in to kiss me. “I like the sound of that.”