Last Night
AlwaysPadfoot
You couldn't look more beautiful. Even when you're stressed you still light up the room you're in. Right now you're running around, pulling off work clothes and opening draws that you'll never take anything from and then closing them again. You suggest we leave it until another night, but this one is special - not that you know that yet.
By the end of the night, the ring in my pocket will be on your finger.
By the time the taxi pulls up outside, you're now stumbling around - with one shoe off and one on - looking for a missing earring and dragging on your leather jacket as though the world is coming to an end. I tell you to forget about the earrings and you stare at me like I've asked you to kick a kitten or a small child, but then you take it off anyway.
In the taxi, you finally relax a little bit and do that thing where you straighten my tie and then mess with my hair a little before half-smiling.
"You're quiet today," you say, resting your hand on my thigh.
I tell you that I just love watching you run about like everything is going to shit (when it isn't) and you make a face, leaning against me. You reckon I'm lying, which I am, but you're not to know that. At least you didn't know how big the lie actually is.
I have to admit I'm a little scared and a little anxious, but elation greatly overcame both of those. You and I huddle under my jacket and hurry up the steps outside your favourite restaurant. You stop at the top, just under the canopy above the door, get up on your tip-toes and kiss the end of my nose.
"You sure you're okay?" I ask you with one eyebrow raised.
You punch me lightly on the arm and then grab my hand as we go inside.
"Two, under Smith," I say to the waiter behind the stand. You watch him look down and his fingers find the reservation, highlighted in pink.
He shows us to a table in the corner and then everything starts to happen. You let me push your chair in behind you before I sit down. Another waiter whizzes up and pours you some champagne. You look up and I watch you taste it and then nod in appreciation.
"Does that usually happen?" you ask, when he's gone.
"I don't know; I don't pay attention," I shrug.
The restaurant knows, even if you don't. You're the only one who I hope doesn't know, because I never surprise you and I am desperate to finally do that. Inside, I try to stay calm because you'll notice if I start acting strange. You're so good at that. When I was deciding exactly how I wanted tonight to go, I figured it was best to do this earlier rather than later, otherwise you might realise what's happening.
When you're ordering, my hand presses against the jacket pocket where the ring is sitting, waiting.
My knee is bouncing up and down under the table when I make my order, and then once I'm finished, I touch your hand. You look right up into my eyes and shake your hair out of your face, before asking, "What's up?"
I try to put on a serious voice: "I've got to tell you something."
Your face drops ever so slightly; that actually makes my heart lift because it means you don't know. That's what I wanted the most for this night; I didn't want you to know.
"About six months ago I was sitting in my office in work and I realised that we've been together for nearly four years. Four years. I was then reliably informed that four years is far too long to have a girlfriend," I explain. "Therefore, you can't be my girlfriend anymore."
You look confused and torn and I can't let you look like that any longer than I need to. I reach into my pocket and stand up. Your eyes are wide and I smile, a mix of adrenaline and elation shooting through my veins. You look like you don't know what to do with any part of your body as I get down on one knee beside the table. Your mouth drops open and your eyes look everywhere but at me for a split second. You notice the people around us are looking too, but they're not even a minor concern for me right now. You have all my attention, because you are the person I love.
Holding out the ring from my pocket, my heart beating double time. I steady myself and then ask: "Will you marry me?"
You don't answer straight away, although, you probably do; it just feels as though the time is dragging on forever in that millisecond it takes for you to answer.
Eventually, you blurt out words. "God, yes. Yes, yes, yes."
You and I end up kneeling on the floor, arms wrapped around each other. You're crying, people are clapping and you don't let go until you've got a hold of yourself. I can't stop grinning, not one bit, not at all. I'm lighter than air.
You scooch your chair closer to me for the rest of the night, our legs wrap themselves around each other under the table so no one sees. You and I keep sharing looks and grinning.
This is exactly the way I imagined it to be.