Chapter 7 A Tie and a Ring—That’s How They Know #2
A soft laugh escapes me, quiet in the enclosed space of my car.
ChaosInPurple: You know I absolutely love crowds, gatherings, anything that even vaguely qualifies as social.
There’s a pause long enough to make me second-guess myself. Then—
SilenceInMidnight: That’s one of the things I love about you.
My heart stutters, then stills completely.
Love.
It’s the first time he’s used the word, and I know enough about him now to understand he doesn’t toss words around lightly. And I desperately want to tell him how much it means that he chose to say it. But I also don’t want to scare the moment away.
ChaosInPurple: Thank you.
I hesitate, then add…
ChaosInPurple: And I mean that about every word of your message.
ChaosInPurple: I’m smiling so hard my cheeks actually hurt.
SilenceInMidnight: I’m happy to hear that.
My fingers hover over the screen for half a second too long before they begin to move, trembling just enough to betray the mix of excitement and nerves coiling tight in my chest.
ChaosInPurple: I need to ask you something. I’ve debated a lot whether I should or not but my friends reminded me that the whole point of FYS is to be myself.
SilenceInMidnight: Your friends are right. And if you ever feel like you have to think twice before asking me something, then that means I’ve failed.
ChaosInPurple: Failed at what?
SilenceInMidnight: Failed at making the space between us safe.
ChaosInPurple: That’s not only your responsibility. We’re in this together.
SilenceInMidnight: That we are. Now ask me what you wanted to ask.
I inhale, slow and deliberate.
ChaosInPurple: It’s been two months and three weeks since our first message through FYS.
SilenceInMidnight: Actually, it’s been two months, two weeks, six days, thirteen hours, and six minutes. But I don’t hear a question, Purple.
My heart does a small, foolish flip.
ChaosInPurple: If we agree to continue, we’re supposed to have our first date soon.
SilenceInMidnight: The suit I’m planning to wear is currently at the dry cleaners. The purple tie I bought yesterday is still in route and should arrive tomorrow. So yes, I’m ready, as soon as FYS confirms that you’ve agreed to move to the next step.
Holy crap.
Somewhere between his quiet reserve and his careful words, Night says things like this that completely dismantle me.
ChaosInPurple: What the heck? When did you even start preparing?
SilenceInMidnight: I’m meeting my favorite girl. Did you really think I’d show up unprepared?
My favorite girl.
For a brief, dizzy second, I’m fairly certain I’ve died and wandered straight into heaven.
ChaosInPurple: While you’re over there preparing, I’ve been over here slowly dying, wondering whether you’d even want to take the next step.
SilenceInMidnight: Then why didn’t you ask me?
ChaosInPurple: Why didn’t you?
His reply comes slower this time.
SilenceInMidnight: Do you really not know the answer to that, Purple?
Even though he hasn’t said in as many words, Night always expects the worst. He tucks his insecurities between measured words, but they’re there, bleeding through in the pauses.
He didn’t ask, because he was dreading that I wouldn’t want to continue.
I don’t call it out. Instead, I pivot.
ChaosInPurple: So you bought a purple tie?
SilenceInMidnight: How else would you recognize me wherever FYS decides to set up our date?
I’ve been so wrapped up in whether he’d say yes that I haven’t even stopped to think about the where. In my head, every important moment of my life has happened in Cherrywood.
ChaosInPurple: Where do you think they’ll set it up?
SilenceInMidnight: Hard to say. But given how well they’ve done so far, I trust them.
The sentence makes me smile, right up until panic barges in uninvited.
ChaosInPurple: What the heck is wrong with these people?
I barely pause between messages.
ChaosInPurple: Shouldn’t they have told us already?
ChaosInPurple: What if the place is far from here and I need to book a flight?
ChaosInPurple: Do they even know how expensive last-minute flights are?
He responds the way he always does, like he already knows exactly what I need to hear.
SilenceInMidnight: Calm down, Purple. FYS has promised to cover all expenses for this date. If flights or accommodations are needed, I’m sure they have it covered.
ChaosInPurple: That makes sense, but what if they don’t? It’s not that I can’t afford it. It just feels irresponsible on their part.
SilenceInMidnight: Listen to me. I’m not letting you pay a single cent for our first date or any future ones.
This is one of those rare moments when I can sense the domineering side of his personality, which is often hidden behind his reserved nature. I can almost feel him growl on the other side of the phone.
SilenceInMidnight: I respect FYS and their plans. I like what they’ve done so far, but honestly, I don’t want them to pay for anything.
I stare at his words, a frown slowly pulling at my brow.
It’s not the first time I’ve had the sense that Night comes from money, and that’s not what bothers me.
Unlike Willow, who distrusts men in general and wealthy men in particular, his financial security doesn’t unsettle me.
What unsettles me is what it implies.
Night has a whole life somewhere else. His roots are planted far from Cherrywood, in a world that isn’t mine. I already know he’s close to his family, but he’s anchored in other ways too, like in a successful career.
I’ve never imagined living anywhere but Cherrywood, yet I’m starting to suspect the same is true for him.
FYS may have found us our perfect soulmate, but the part of building a perfect life together will be entirely up to us. And maybe not so easy.
ChaosInPurple: Have you thought about where we’d live or where we’d work?
The moment I hit send, dread crawls up my throat. Suddenly everything feels too big. There are too many moving parts, too many lives already built before we’ve even touched.
SilenceInMidnight: Purple, stop.
Those words don’t feel sharp, but protective.
SilenceInMidnight: I know these things are important. But none of them matter more than whether we want to be together. Let’s meet first. Then we can talk about logistics.
ChaosInPurple: But—
I don’t even get to finish the thought before another message appears, like he knows exactly where my mind is spiraling.
SilenceInMidnight: If we want to live together, we’ll find a way. I know you have a job you love, friends who are family, your grandparents’ house that holds your heart. I know you already have a full life, one that’s meaningful and complete even without me in it.
ChaosInPurple: And the same is true for you, isn’t it?
ChaosInPurple: You have your twin, your family, a good job. Maybe even a house. Wouldn’t it be unfair of me to ask you to leave all of that behind for me?
SilenceInMidnight: You’re not asking me for anything. If I leave my life here, it will be because I want to.
SilenceInMidnight: No one has ever made me do anything, Purple. I might sound like a gentleman right now, but once you meet me, you’ll realize I’m probably the most stubborn (read: arrogant) man you’ll ever know.
The quiet confidence beneath his words seeps through me. He’s even willing to consider change, for me, for us.
ChaosInPurple: I’m not saying I couldn’t leave my town either.
I glance out toward Lake Cherry, the hills rising around it like quiet sentinels. This place holds every version of me I’ve ever been, every memory that shaped me, and yet, for the first time, the idea of stepping beyond it doesn’t feel like betrayal, even if it sends my heart racing.
Night’s response feels like he’s guiding us both back from the edge of too many what-ifs.
SilenceInMidnight: It’s enough for now that we’re both willing to work toward being together.
ChaosInPurple: Since we’re talking about being together and all there’s something I want to share with you. I actually planned to show this to you on our first date, but by now you probably know I have the patience of a three-year-old.
I reach for the glove box and pull out the small Persian-blue velvet box I’ve carried with me more often than I admit. When I open it, the ring catches the dim light inside my car, familiar and impossibly precious.
It was my grandmother’s.
A delicate silver band, vintage and worn in the most beautiful way, with a lavender gemstone nestled at its center—subtle, elegant, timeless.
When Grandma died, Pop placed it in my palm and told me it was her blessing.
I’ve always imagined my future husband sliding it onto my finger, sealing a love that is certain and earned.
I slip the ring on.
My nails are painted black, accented with tiny purple violets—far from my usual style, but it felt right when Willow and Quill dragged me to the spa.
The nail art reminded me of Night and me, of us together.
Without letting myself overthink, I rest my hand against my thigh and take a picture, careful with the angle, deliberate in what I don’t show.
I make sure there’s no glimpse of Cherrywood, no reflection of my car, no accidental pieces of my world slipping through.
That discovery belongs to our first date.
I send the photo before doubt can talk me out of it.
ChaosInPurple: This was my grandmother’s.
My fingers hover, then continue.
ChaosInPurple: Since you mentioned how we’d recognize each other I wanted you to know I’ll be wearing this.
I pause, heart thudding, then finish the thought I don’t need to explain.
ChaosInPurple: And I’ll be waiting for you.