38. December 7th
Rafael
Istand in the doorway to the bubblegum-pink bathroom and lean against the frame, watching my thirty-seven week pregnant Angel slip an earring in and smile back at me through the 1mirror.
“See something you like?” she smirks.
I take the opportunity to rake my eyes over every inch of her. She’s wearing a tailored-to-perfection emerald evening gown with a long flowing skirt and a slit to her mid-thigh. The wide V neckline gives me the most spectacular view of her full breasts. Just modest enough for public, but just scandalous enough to make everyone envious of me.
Stepping behind her, I lean down to run my nose along the column of her neck and inhale her peachy scent behind her ear. “I see something I love.”
“I love you too,” she hums, placing her hand behind my neck to keep me in place as I kiss a trail across her warm skin. “Are you sure we’re not overdressed?”
“What?” I tease, now kissing along her shoulder. “Are my matching pants and black velvet tuxedo jacket too much?”
“For a company holiday party? Yeah, I’d say so,” she giggles.
Months ago, I requested our company holiday party be moved up a couple weeks to accommodate Angie’s due date. Even though she’s not due until after Christmas, there’s a strong chance she could deliver earlier, so I wanted to make sure this night happened for us.
“It’s black tie tonight,” I remind her. “Plus, Jay’s going to be there, so you know he’s dressing to the nines and making Marco and Cora do the same.”
“That’s true. I do feel pretty. This might be the last time we do something like this for a long time.”
Taking my lips away, I watch her in the mirror again and I hum, “Mmm, maybe. Are you ready?”
“I think so,” she says, then turns to face me. “Let’s go.”
I take her hand and lead her down the cottage-core hallway and wrap-around wooden staircase down to our Gothic front foyer and living room. One day last week, I woke up to find Angie reading in her mushroom and crystal-adorned library, looking so peaceful it melted my heart. When I sat down next to her and placed my head in her lap, she stroked my hair with one hand then abruptly asked if she made a huge mistake with the clashing design choices.
“No,” I said. “Weird and eclectic is kind of our thing.”
“Aren’t you worried about the resale value?”
“No,” I said. “All its value comes from our happiness.”
When we get to the bottom floor, Angie tries to steer us to the side door off the kitchen to head to the garage, but I stop her. “Hold on” I say, letting go of her arm and stepping toward the front door. “Wait right here and close your eyes.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just do it.”
Closing her eyes, she sighs, “Alright.”
I open the door and step out on the covered porch, then shut the door behind me. I grab the corsage and matching boutonniere I have sitting out here, then ring the doorbell with a shit-eating grin.
When she answers the door, the exact reaction I hope she will have washes over her. “Gasp,” she whispers.
“Angie Johanssen, will you go to prom with me?”
“Shut. Up,” she bellows, but her stunned features morph quickly into tears. Stepping into action, I take a clean handkerchief from my pocket I got specifically for this reason and dab under her eyes.
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes,” she sniffles.
I slip the corsage on her wrist and she pins the boutonniere to my lapel. This simple moment alone is already more meaningful than every single second I spent at prom last time.
Covering her shoulders with her dress coat that doesn’t fit around her waist anymore, we then step onto the porch to find a sleek black town car idling and a chauffeur standing outside, waiting for us.
“You hired a driver?” she beams.
“I had to make it authentic,” I shrug.
“Good evening, folks,” our driver smiles, holding the door open for us. “Welcome. My name is Leonard. Please help yourself to the sparkling juice and charcuterie. We’ll be at your destination right on time.”
“Thank you,” we both say, sliding into the back seat. It’s only the beginning of tonight, but already I have butterflies and a smug satisfaction at how well this is turning out.
Thirty minutes later when we arrive at the historic Franklin Hotel downtown, it’s Angie’s turn to use the handkerchief to wipe my mouth clean of her lipstick before we walk inside arm in arm.
I glance down at the foam sandals she’s sporting as they peak through the hem of her dress and I smile. I’m glad she’s comfortable because there’s no part of tonight I want disrupting her joy.
I keep her by my side throughout cocktail hour as I introduce her to all my colleagues and keep her sparkling juice flute filled. We take pictures with the photographer I purposefully hired, standing in those classic and awkward prom poses; and I already plan on giving a copy to our parents for their refrigerators. I’m framing this shit and hanging it up.
When dinner is served, while Angie is talking to Dayo, our Director of Interior Design, I lean over to Jay who’s sitting right next to me and whisper in his ear, “Everything ready?”
“It’s perfect,” he says. “I may have…added a little more.”
“More what?”
“You’ll see. Don’t worry,” he grins.
After dinner and dessert are cleared, the volume of the music picks up and the song switches from the festive holiday mix toNo One by Alicia Keys—and the real reason we’re here tonight begins.
Sort of.
Standing from my chair, I reach for her hand. “May I have this dance?”
Her gaze shifts from mine to glance around the room and then back. “But no one is dancing yet.”
“We are.”
“Jesus,” she mumbles, but takes my hand. “Just whip your cock out and show everyone already.”
I lead her to the empty dance floor, giving her a spin right off the bat, and then tucking her into my body. To make room for the babies, her own body isn’t centered against mine—instead, her belly extends next to my hip. I brace one hand under her stomach and my other holds her close. We sway together and her glossy fingernails shine against the dark velvet of my tux.
I don’t care if no one else joins us. I don’t care if we overstay our welcome and I have to pay to extend tonight’s event, because nothing could tear me away from this long-overdue dance.
“Can this be our song now?” I ask, and her sad smile fills me with warmth.
“Only if you promise to keep slow dancing with me.”
“Forever, baby.”
Eventually more people come to join us and even though we’re surrounded by them, it somehow feels more intimate—like we’ve created a little cocoon within each other’s arms.
“This is the best prom I’ve ever been to,” I say to her, watching the light twinkle in her eyes.
“I feel like a princess,” she smiles. “Like a huge, pregnant princess.”
My chest shakes with laughter as I kiss the top of her head. “The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”
“Do you mind if we take a break for a little while?” she asks. “My hips are starting to hurt, and I need to catch my breath.”
“Of course. Here, why don’t we step into the hallway,” I offer, and she holds my arm as I lead us through the double doors. There are professionally decorated Christmas trees and garland strewn throughout the hallway as well as ornate couches along the walls. But instead of guiding her to one, I pull her towards the double doors on the other side of the hallway.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“Let’s see what’s in here.”
2Her eyes go wide as she looks behind us like we’re going to get caught. “Um…”
“Come on, live a little.” I pull open the large door and usher her inside quickly, and it swings shut behind us.
“Oh my god, no. We can’t be here,” Angie whispers, trying to push me back. “This is somebody else’s event!”
Holding her shoulders, I spin her back around to face the room. “No, it’s not. It’s our event.”
She turns her head to look at the room again. It’s half the size of the ballroom we were just in, but the entire floor is covered in electric candles. The overhead lights are turned off, but everything glows and sparkles thanks to the large windows overlooking the city and the mirrored ceiling.
There’s a string quartet playing near the corner, and I give them a wave.
Angie, however, is stuck in one spot as her jaw hangs open, taking everything in. Gripping her hands in mine, I walk backwards, pulling her through the straight path between the candles to the center of the room.
“What is happening?” she trembles as we reach the small circle in the middle.
“I’m proposing to you,” I smile, trying my best to appear confident, but my heart is pounding.
“No, you’re not,” she says, her eyes wild and laser focused on me. “No, you’re not. Oh my god, you are.” I pull the ring box from my pocket and kneel. “Rafael!” she screams, then covers her mouth with both hands, like she didn’t mean to blurt that last part.
“Do you want me to keep going?” I smile, and she nods frantically. “Good.”
I take both of her hands in mine. “I want to start by saying I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here. I should have been kneeling before you ten years ago.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
“Angel, I’ve wanted to spend every single day with you since the day we met. I’ve been following you like a puppy and I never realized how good I had it—how great I had it. Realizing I loved you was like listening to a favorite song; I already knew the lyrics, the melody, the beat… I just had to remember who was singing beside me the whole time.”
Angie wipes her tears with the back of her hand as she chokes back more. With a shaky but sure hand, I open the box and show her the ring her father gave me—her mother’s ring. “I love you with all of my heart, Angel—you and your wild imagination. Nothing would make me happier than being your husband. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” she sobs, and relief washes over me like a tidal wave. I was ninety-nine percent sure she’d say yes, but based on the way I’m shaking like a leaf, you’d think I wasn’t sure at all.
The quartet must have been listening because they crescendo rapidly, filling the room with the notes that will become the soundtrack to our story.
Slipping the ring on her left hand, she gawks at it as her chest heaves, and I quickly stand to kiss another yes from her lips.
And another.
And another.
1.Teenage Dream by Katy Perry
2.Say You Won”t Let Go by James Arthur