Alexander

I asked her to marry me.

"Eliza, I don't have a dollar to my name," I tried to laugh this fact away, and she giggled a bit, too. "I have about an acre of land. I have a troop to command, a bit of fame. I have my honor, and a few college credits."

I had taken a deep breath. My nervousness had invaded me. "Your family brings out a different side of me, Betsey. Peggy confides in me, and Angelica might have tried to take a bite of me." I winked to Angelica, who was unmoving. Eliza turned for her sister, shock spreading over her face. Instead of letting her attack Angelica over a joke, I grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to me. "No stress! My love for you is never in doubt. I'm thinking we could get property in Harlem? That's where we can figure it all out.

"My father left, my mother died. I grew up buckwild. But as long as I'm alive, Eliza, I swear to God you'll never feel helpless." This was when I dropped on my knee, her hands in mine.

"Elizabeth, my dear Betsey; will you be my wife?"

Eliza could not form the proper response; all she did was gasp harshly. Members of her family whooped and hollered without an ounce of class. She squeezed my hands, nodding a yes very dramatically. You could tell that she knew, anyone could tell. But her yes made my heart warm in ways I could never describe to you.

We embraced, her face burrowed into the crick of my neck. My arms wrapped around her waist tightly. I refused to let go for at least two full minutes. The thing is, she did not request for me to let go, either.

When she glanced back up at me, she presses a tiny kiss to my cheek. A wave of emotion crashed into me. I grabbed her cheeks in my hands and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

The crowd whooped and hollered some more. They threw neutral colored scarves at us. Eliza caught two while laughing hysterically. I caught none, as I was too captivated with her to care. Not only is the rest of my life secure, but I am able to spend it's remainder with my best friend.

Now, I look up into the crowd of people. Margarita is cheeking, clapping, her yellow gown only adding to her glow. Angelica stands beside her. Angelica's eyes are puffy, red, tired. The rest of her face seems pale, besides under her eyes; they are becoming a bit gray. Her hair is neatly pulled back into a half ponytail. A champagne flute is in her hand.

I squeeze Eliza's hand, but she doesn't feel a thing. Angelica and I keep eye contact. She raises the flute to her lips, smiling through her tears.

What have I done?