17. Chapter 17
Harriet: Two Years Later
The shelter smells of bleach and wet dog, a combination I barely notice anymore.
I push through the glass front door into the late afternoon air and stop on the concrete step.
I need a moment to breathe out the heavy weight of all that feeding, cleaning, and sitting on the floor with a German shepherd mix.
He’s been with us for five weeks now, yet he still flinches every time someone walks past his cage.
Either way, I’m incredibly thankful for Beatrix—my boss—being able to hire me part-time.
Then I see Kwemby’s car idling at the curb.
He’s already out of it by the time I reach the bottom of the step, coming around the hood with unhurried movement. He opens the passenger door and stands beside it.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” I say.
“That’s because I was surprising you.”
I get in. He closes the door and comes around to the driver’s side. It’s when he settles in behind the wheel that I notice how his hair is combed down, and he’s wearing a baby blue button-down with black slacks.
“You’re dressed nice,” I say.
“Mhm.” He waggles his brows at me.
“Where are we going?”
“Now now, don’t want to spoil the surprise.”
That’s all he gives me. “Okay,” I say.
“But I did grab a few dress options for you in the back, along with your favorite pearls.”
I peek at the back. Sure enough, hanging on the dry cleaning hooks are a few dress options.
My great-great-great grandma’s ring—the same one I rescued from the safe in my and Buck’s closet—is looped through a necklace so I can wear it against my throat.
I had given it to him a few weeks ago because I was too terrified of losing it in my temporary living situation.
“Kwemby,” I whisper. “That was so thoughtful of you.” Not only have I never been surprised with a romantic date before, but I also most certainly have never been so thoroughly thought of.
“Oh, I almost forgot. Check the glove compartment.”
I do. I slowly open it, not sure what I’ll find. Inside is my makeup bag, including all my lipstick and blush. I stopped wearing foundation twenty years ago.
Tears well in my eyes at the thoughtfulness. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
He glances at me with a smile, before returning his attention to the road. “I love you so much.”
Since I can’t get ready in the car, we spend the rest of the time talking.
“How was your shift?” he asks.
I tell him about the German shepherd and the litter of kittens someone dropped off this morning. There’s a cat sanctuary across town but they’re full and focus on cats with extra needs. These kittens will get adopted right away. We can all already tell.
The city shifts around us as he drives. We talk the entire time. He reaches across the middle and holds my hand.
He takes a turn I don’t recognize, down a narrow road. A sign reads PRIVATE MARINA. The road ends in a small gravel lot. Two other cars are parked at the far end.
“We’re here,” he says. As I step out, I hear waves crashing against planks.
Once we’re out of the car, he grabs my makeup bag, necklace with my ancestral ring, and all the dress options and shows me a private outdoor bathroom.
While it’s not ideal, we’re also on the edge of the city and what else was he supposed to do?
Bring me a gas station bathroom? I pick my favorite dress, the curve-hugging black one that falls to my knees and has capped sleeves, stepping into it with an awareness of a body that has carried twins and decades of tension.
In the dim reflection of the tiny bathroom mirror, I have to tilt my chin up to trace my lipstick cleanly without my reading glasses.
He returns everything to the car and then escorts me toward the water.
The marina is small with one dock, and about half a dozen boats lining the sides.
At the end of the dock, a mid-sized charter boat sits in the spot.
String lights run the length of the grab rails.
I also spot candlelight in glass-enclosed holders on a table in the middle of the boat.
The flames bend in the breeze. A man in a pressed white captain’s jacket stands at the point where the dock meets the plank.
Beside him, a waiter in a dark vest holds a tray with two champagne flutes. Both men are watching us.
“For us?” I ask because there’s no one else here.
“Yes, my darling.” He grabs my hand and interlaces our fingers. “Let’s go.”
We continue down the dock toward the boat, the wood rough under my shoes, the smell of the water rising around us. Once we reach the gap where the dock meets water, I take Kwemby’s arm and step aboard.
The captain shakes hands with Kwemby, then introduces himself to me and says we will be on the water for about two hours.
The waiter lifts the champagne from his tray and sets both flutes on the table, then unfolds the wool blankets and drapes them over the chairs.
The boat’s engine starts as the captain backs us out.
I take one of the flutes and settle into my chair, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. The wool is thick, slightly rough, but immediately warm. Kwemby slides the chair from across the table and sets it right beside me. Then he sits with his own blanket across his knees.
“Thank you for grabbing me something to wear. I’d feel underdressed otherwise.”
In response, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me close to his chest. It’s a little awkward, given we’re sitting down, but I’m tall enough to lean over comfortably.
We motor from the marina. The shoreline pulls back into a glittering line, leaving the parking lot and the illuminated skyscrapers behind. The farther we get, the more we are drenched in darkness, save for the flickering candlelight and the fairy lights along the railings.
The waiter appears at the stern and sets a wooden board filled with cheese on the table before us. There’s also a small cluster of purple grapes, sliced sweet bread and a handful of crackers. He refills our champagne and retreats.
I eat a piece of sweet bread with the soft cheese and gaze at the water. It’s an unbelievably gorgeous night. The moon is low and bright on the eastern horizon. The waves against the boat are soothing, as is the soft rocking they make. Somewhere in the dark to our left, a buoy bell sounds.
Kwemby turns toward me in his seat. I feel the shift in his posture before I turn to look at him. The air changes between us.
“I’ve been in love with you for thirty years,” he says. My fingers tighten in the folds of the wool blanket, my chest locking tight around a breath I can’t quite release.
He continues, “I’ve tried not to push. I wanted to wait until I was sure you were choosing me and not looking for a rebound.”
He stops. Reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket.
“You’re the one,” he says. “That’s all. You always have been. Every second I’ve waited for you was a second worth it.”
He brings out the ring. It’s a simple gold band with a small cluster of deep blue sapphires set close together.
He takes my hand in both of his. He doesn’t slide off the bench or go down on one knee for performance, he just holds my hand, his thumbs resting across my knuckles, and looks at me.
The dry texture of his palms combined with the ring pressing against both of our palms as he holds my hand, sends a steady heat straight up my wrist.
“Marry me,” he says.
My hands have gone still. I’m noticing the raw emotion on his face. How this moment is equally important for both of us.
“Yes,” I breathe out. “It should have always been you. Yes.”
He lets go of my hand to slide the ring onto my finger.
Then, when he leans in, his lips meet mine softly at first before deepening the pressure.
His hand cups the side of my face, his thumb resting steady against my jawline to hold me close.
My fingers bunch into his shirt as I kiss him back, losing the chill of the bay breeze to the heat of his mouth.
Unexpectedly, fireworks detonate overhead. They’re only a few hundred feet away above the water, white, gold and red. The sound cracks across the water. A second follows before the first has fully faded. Then a third, trailing red in long arcs.
“Did you do this, too?” I ask.
“Yes. I told the captain to signal if you said yes.” He points at a small platform across the water, safely inland a few feet. “See there? That’s our firework man.”
I wave, though I doubt our firework man can see me from here. Kwemby laughs before taking my hand in his. The fireworks keep coming.