Epilogue #2
He huffed out a sigh and dropped every random proposal plan in the world on me. I smiled and nodded because it was evident he needed to work these options out, but my mind wandered back to the autumn morning Magnolia and I had closed on our new home.
We hadn't gone looking to buy a house together, but it seemed the house went looking for us.
The brownstone sat adjacent to Hayes Park in the South End, not far from my apartment.
We'd passed it while walking Gronk on several occasions, each time admiring the stained-glass windows, the dedicated parking, the neighboring rose garden.
It wasn't until Magnolia's friend Riley mentioned he was considering it as a restoration project and wanted her input on the landscape design that we'd realized it was available.
And we wanted it. There was no shortage of work needed but we were up for those challenges. That, and her friends jumped at the idea of helping us fix up the house. Those were friends worth having.
Within two weeks, we'd made an offer, plunked down the cash, and had ourselves a home.
And when we'd pulled up in front of the house we'd bought together on that October morning, I asked Magnolia to get the keys from the front pocket of my laptop bag.
She didn't see that pocket, instead reaching into the one where I kept an extra set of earbuds, some paperclips, and the engagement ring I'd been carrying around for more than a month.
She pulled out a small manila envelope, one identical to the envelope containing the keys, and dropped a diamond into my palm.
She blinked furiously. "That's not a key."
"Nope," I replied.
"That's not a key," she repeated. "It's something very different from a key and I'm not sure whether this is a fun setup where I was supposed to find the thing that isn't a key or I went in the wrong pocket and this is a really big mistake."
I licked my lips. "Which do you want it to be?"
She kept blinking, her lips parted and her gaze fixed on the ring.
"I think I know what you want it to be because you wouldn't have this thing that is not a key otherwise.
" She pushed her hair behind her ears, took a sip of her iced coffee, glanced at the brownstone.
"And I think I know what I want it to be too but there's this little part of me"—she held up two fingers, barely an inch apart—"that doesn't believe you really want it.
Doesn't want you to want me. That part is wrong and I know that but I have to mentally climb over those rocks first."
"What do you see when you climb over them?"
She hesitated, tapping a finger against her lips. "This wasn't how I imagined it would go."
"What did you imagine, love?"
She pursed her lips to fight off a smile. I loved it when she did that, as if schooling her mouth could hide her smiles when they blossomed in her eyes more than anywhere else. "I imagined I'd ask you." She tipped her chin toward my palm. "I thought I'd beat you to it."
I barked out a laugh, closed my fingers around the ring. "That's not how this is going to work, Magnolia."
She reared back. "Excuse you?"
"No, my love. I'm sorry but you don't get to propose to me."
Her eyes narrowed, brows furrowed, lips parted. I loved the look of outrage on her face. It was adorable. "And why not?" she asked.
"Because I've waited," I replied. "I've waited since—since the very start. Then I waited all summer and into autumn. I've wanted to do this so many times and I've waited. I wanted it to be right for you, for me, for us."
She dragged her teeth over her bottom lip. "How much longer did you intend to wait?"
I slumped back against my seat, rubbed my forehead. "Not long. Your mother told me I wouldn't be welcome in her home if I didn't hurry up."
"Oh my god," she whispered, bringing her fingertips to her temples. "My mother."
I reached for her hand. "Do you remember how I researched magnolias when you first told me your name, MizMaggie?
I was sure I'd seen one but I didn't know off the top of my head what a magnolia looked like and I had to see for myself.
I found photos but I also learned magnolias are nothing like other flowers.
They blossomed before bees appeared on earth.
They waited a long time for the world to understand them and that time made them tougher.
More independent. So much stronger." I pushed the ring past her knuckle.
"You don't have to wait any longer, Magnolia. "
She blinked down at her hand. "We've both waited."
"Hey. Russo, hey."
"Yeah?" I asked Ben, shaking off the memory of that morning. "What's up?"
He held out a slim platinum band with a rough-cut blue stone seated at the center. "What about this one? It's a sapphire. It's kind of pretty and small, but it's also gnarly. Maybe a little scary. Just like Killer. Right?"
I peered at the ring. Not unlike Grace, it was delicate but undeniably gnarly. "For once, we agree."
Thank you for reading! I hope you loved Magnolia’s journey. Click here () to read Rob's wedding eve letter (and witness the accompanying meltdown) to Magnolia!
Look for Ash’s story in Boss in the Bedsheets and Linden’s in The Belle and the Beard.
An excerpt from Boss in the Bedsheets:
I studied the thick stubble on his jaw and above his upper lip as I considered this. "I hate to break it to you, Ash, but we're past the point of requiring permission to ask personal questions. This is all one big personal question."
"Is that a yes or a no, Zelda?"
"Yes, go ahead," I replied.
He dragged his hand from between my shoulders to my waist, slow slow slow like he wanted me to record the feel of his fingertips all over my skin. "What are you wearing?"
"It's a shirt."
He fisted his hand around the fabric. If he gave the tiniest of tugs, it was bound to rip. "Is it really?"
"Yes," I snapped, failing to keep a laugh out of my voice. "And shorts."
He released the shirt, then traced his knuckles along my vintage waistband. "I'd really like to know whose boxers you're wearing."
"Who? What? Oh, they're mine," I sputtered. "Yeah. These are mine."
He stared down at the boxers, frowning. "I can't decide if I'm surprised or relieved."
"No?"
"No," Ash replied. "And that's not the greatest complication in this matter."
"What would that be?"
His frown morphed into a grimace, his brows gathering. "There's the issue of me being irrationally troubled at the prospect of you sleeping in some other guy's underwear."
Boss in the Bedsheets is available now!