33. Dash
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
DASH
Six Months Later
"Shit!" Natalie shook her hand and headed for the sink.
"What happened?" Dash asked.
"I cut myself slicing these damn tomatoes." She held her thumb under a steady stream of cool water, watching a thin line of blood disappear down the drain.
"Let me see." He wiped his hands on his gym shorts and inspected the damage. "It's not that deep, but we need to get it cleaned up." He reached for a clean paper towel and wrapped it tightly around her finger.
She followed him into his bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub. He rifled through cabinets and drawers. In a minute, he turned to her, a collection of first-aid supplies in hand.
"Don't worry. I'm certified in CPR," he said with authority.
"It's my thumb." She held up her wounded hand.
"Always err on the side of caution." He bent down and placed a tender kiss on her lips.
Dash went to work, cleaning and wrapping her cut like a skilled surgeon. When he finished, he gave her boo-boo a light kiss. "Better?" he asked.
"Much." She nodded. "There's only one problem."
"What's that?"
"Well, we have Cookie’s big gallery event tomorrow night and I don't think sterile white gauze will be much of a compliment to my dress." She held up her bandaged digit. "It kinda sticks out like, well, like a sore thumb."
"Trust me, no one's going to be looking at your thumb. They'll be too busy looking at all your other parts."
"Maybe by tomorrow night, I'll be ready for a nice, discreet Band-Aid."
"I have an idea. Gimme sixty seconds. I'll be right back."
Dash disappeared, returning a minute later wearing an even wider smile. He knelt beside her and took hold of her left hand. Natalie’s face sifted through a dozen expressions at once: confusion, disbelief, joy.
"No one will be looking at your thumb if we give them something else to focus on," he said.
He held the diamond engagement ring against the tip of her ring finger, praying it would fit.
He'd spent months secretly comparing it with other rings in her jewelry box, reassuring himself that he purchased the correct size. He’d solicited Kate’s help early in the shopping process, texting her pics of different bands and settings.
She’d helped him narrow it down to three rings, assuring him that he could propose with a paper cigar band and Natalie would say yes.
He'd only shown the final choice to one other person: Natalie's father.
A clandestine trip had taken him to Nashville a couple of months before, ring in tow. They'd met for dinner and drinks at Terrace Oak (fully restored thanks to a hefty insurance payout—even the tree survived!). With a handshake and a toast, Foster Powell officially welcomed Dash into his family.
“Oh, Dash,” Natalie whispered, her hand shaking.
Dash looked into her autumn-hued eyes, now filled with happy tears. “Natalie Amelia Earhart Powell, will you look past the dirty towels on my bathroom floor and the toothpaste smear in my sink and do me the honor of becoming Mrs. Thomas Crown?"
She leaned her forehead lovingly against his. "Every day for the rest of my life."
He slipped the ring fully onto her finger. A perfect fit. After a sixty-second long celebratory kiss, his lips practically crushing hers with happiness, Dash pulled back for a breath. “I’ve thought about this moment for weeks, but finally seeing it on your hand … Do you like it?”
"Like it? It’s perfect! It’s absolutely beautiful!" The overhead light danced on the massive, cushion-cut center stone.
"It's only perfect if you promise to let me ride shotgun.” He pressed her hand to his chest, directly over his heart, now beating a strong, even rhythm of total certainty. He’d never felt more love for another soul. “I want to take care of you for the rest of my life.”
“We have to take care of each other,” she made a gentle correction.
Yes, we do. Like Miranda and Cecil take care of each other.
Like my mom and Colt’s dad took care of each other.
Like your parents loved each other. I want to do everything with you, Natalie Powell—from the horse-drawn carriage to the leaky roof and all stops in between. Team Benning, from this moment forward.
"I hadn't planned to do this tonight, and if I had, it certainly wouldn't be happening here in my bathroom, both of us barefoot."
“Yeah, but this whole thing kinda started with our feet, when you think about it. My broken heel? You throwing your shoe over that fence? And don’t forget what you said back at your apartment. Romance can be found anytime, anywhere, as long as you're with the right someone."
Dash looked around, a playful gleam in his eye. "Well then, I think we've arrived at the pinnacle of romance.”
He went in for one more kiss but this time, Natalie pulled away first. She took his hand and led him back to the kitchen and straight to her cell phone.
They spent the next few minutes on FaceTime, sharing the news with their inner circle.
Foster cried like a baby. Kate and Colt, out at dinner, raised margaritas in their honor.
Miranda and Cecil offered a beach-side toast from their favorite resort in Cozumel.
Noah and Blaine offered quick congratulations from the lobby of the Richard Rodgers Theatre in New York City, where they were minutes from curtain for Hamilton.
Blaine’s first time seeing the famed musical. Noah’s fifth.
At intermission, Noah sent her a one-word text: KLEINFELD!!