"Clarke, I… well, you see, you know that I-er, I love you, yea?" Lexa began, already prepping herself for that familiar quiver that would soon begin to rewire her motor and speech functions. She paused for a second, swallowing the nervousness down a constricted pipe. "A-and you and I, we've been together a while now… well, I know it's only been a few months, seven to be exact… or eight… wow – um," she was losing it, she could feel the control slowly slipping away from her, "anyway, my point is that, it may not seem like a whole lot of time but for some reason, it feels like we've known each other a lot longer than that. Sometimes it feels like I've known you my whole life. As though you were always meant to happen."
She cleared her throat before diving for the big finale. "You see, Clarke… before you happened, nothing really mattered. Y-you changed that. You're just so incredibly beautiful, and smart, and talented, and strong, and- god you're just so fucking amazing –oops, sorry, didn't mean to curse, ah!" Slap to the forehead, nice. "Sorry, um, I-I really suck at this…" audible sigh, cringe, continue, "Clarke, what I'm trying to say is," Lexa gave up the pretense of surprise and dropped to a knee, opening a small, suede box in the process, "Clarke Abigail Griffin, I love you more than anything in the fucking Universe. Will you please fucking marry me?"
One-Mississippi
Two-Mississippi
Please say 'Yes', please say 'Yes'!
Five-Mississippi
She remained in that position for a few seconds longer, counting each one in her head. Lexa had read "somewhere" (How to Propose for Dummies, to be exact) that the proposer should give the proposee roughly ten seconds to process the question.
Eight-Missi-
"YES! Oh, yes, Lexa, darling, I'll fucking marry the snot out of you!" Anya screamed out loud, bursting through her bedroom door and sending an unsuspecting Lexa scrambling to her feet, internally cursing herself for not locking it beforehand. "Uh, actually on second thought," Anya continued, snatching the suede box out of Lexa's trembling hands, "I take that back. I ain't a gold-digger but I'm gonna need something better than this outdated ring, honey-buns. Hope you got your girl a rock that's a little more current than that."
Lexa, in her embarrassment at being caught mid-practice, slapped the box out of Anya's hand. "You ruined my moment, dipshit!" She snarled, pushing past Anya and plopping down onto her bed. "I almost had it!"
"Yea, sure you did," Anya snickered, sitting down next to her cousin, "let's just say you were La La Land close to having it. Sorry, kid, but that was pitiful to listen to."
Lexa scowled, but remained silent. She knew Anya wasn't entirely wrong.
"It's been two fucking weeks and I still can't get this speech right," Lexa admitted, avoiding Anya's amused gaze. "What am I supposed to do if I screw it up tonight, An? Just thinking about it, about ruining it for Clarke, makes me wanna hurl. She deserves perfection. Not some mumbling, stumbling idiot."
Anya sighed. It seemed the moment to torment her cousin was regrettably short-lived. "Look, squid, that girl is crazy about you, okay? I've no doubts that she'd say 'Yes' even if you actually did hurl all over her while spouting that crap I heard you say earlier. I don't think it would make an ounce of a difference." Anya shoulder-bumped Lexa in an effort to cheer her up. "Throw yourself into the moment tonight. Let it take its course and I promise you the right words will find you before you find them." Anya immediately regretted the heart-felt advice the second she caught the sideways glance Lexa threw her. "O-or so I hear. But what do I know! Just saying that when I propose to Raven, that's what I'd probably do. Maybe. I guess it depen-"
"When you propose to Raven, huh?" Lexa found her window, and by the lack of color on Anya's face, the shot hit home.
"I meant-" Anya started, but relaxed as an undeniable realization dawned, "exactly that. When is right. Raven… she's it for me. Just like Clarke's it for you. I guess when you know, you know… ya know?"
Lexa nodded in understanding. She and Anya were, as much as Lexa oftentimes refused to acknowledge, more alike than they were different.
"Just make sure you get Princess a legit ring. That ought to make this entire ordeal much easier for you." Anya suggested, pushing off the bed and heading for the exit, pausing just before reaching the door.
"You know, for the longest time I thought you had made a mistake when it came to Costia. Letting her go like that," Anya spoke timidly, clearly a piece of information she'd held onto for years. "And I honestly believed that you'd never recover from it. That you'd always just be the selfish, broken brat I knew all those years ago. Every decision, every mistake, every event that has ever happened to you has brought you to this very moment, Lex. I was wrong. And I'm glad for it. Because you deserve the world too, kid."
Once Anya left, Lexa scooped the small suede box from the floor where it had landed. She closed the lid, the ring still encased within its cushioned interior, and walked over to the nearest trash bin where she carefully discarded the package.
The ring, contrary to Anya's assumption, was never meant for Clarke.
It was once meant for the only other person she had ever loved.
Lexa smiled. Thankful she never received the chance to use it.
/
Like most other Saturdays, today was not discernably different. The sun kindly made its predictable appearance at its usual time. As previously forecasted, the temperature was warm and inviting, which complemented the suave blue of the sky, unhindered by wayward clouds.
Her favorite flower shop unlocked its doors at exactly 8 AM, as scheduled, and when asked by the humble, sympathetic elderly man if she'd want the 'usual', she simply nodded and graced him with a gentle smile.
By mid-morning, she found herself leisurely treading the unpaved trails that cut through patches of trimmed grass and white marble monuments, as she had planned to do so the night before. She moved, partially on cruise-control toward the spot she had neglected to visit for a number of years now.
Just another Saturday. As ordinary as all others. For everyone else, perhaps.
But not for Clarke.
Not for Abby.
And not for Jake's tombstone, which currently supported the weight of a slumped, sobbing adult woman.
Clarke had half a mind to turn around and leave as silently as she came, without anyone the wiser that she was ever even there. But today was no ordinary day.
"Abby," Clarke breathed.
Abby's head shot up, eyes wide and frantic as she searched for the owner of the sound. Clarke saw fleeting disappointment the second Abby recognized it had come from her, which rapidly evolved into a look of pity and sorrow. She knew that look only too well. It was the bitter blend of crushed hope and broken dreams at the realization that no, it wasn't him. That yes, he was still gone. And no… he wasn't ever coming back.
Abby straightened herself, wiping her face free of the obvious evidence she had just displayed. "Hi sweetie," she said, her voice laden with grief, disguised by a pained smile. "Well, I guess we both had the same idea." Abby let out a weak chuckle, crossing her arms across a chest that still heaved from pain. "Uh, w-where's your brother?"
Clarke saw the dodge, but decided to go along. "Raven has him for now. He's going to be with Lexa for most of the afternoon," Clarke clarified, scrutinizing her mother's elusive expression, "Aden is fine. You don't need to worry."
Abby nodded vacantly, wiping quivering hands down her jeans. "Well, I should go. I'm sure you want some privacy…"
"Wait, mom," Clarke said, hesitating at first, but relenting, "don't leave. He'd want you here."
She closed the distance between her and her parents, suddenly remembering the flower bouquet she carried. Desperate for an ice-breaker to thaw the awkwardness between them, she recounted a secret she had never once shared before. With anyone. "The last time I was here, I fell asleep," Clarke said with a hint of humor to her tone. "Well, cried myself to sleep actually. And… I dreamt about him. We were fishing, him and I. Only instead of an ocean, our boat rocked soothingly on a bed of clouds. Instead of fish, we were catching birds. Birds of all shapes and sizes, and colors."
Abby smiled along to the story, immersing herself into the visual as though she were an honorary guest into Clarke's private memory.
"When I finally caught one, it was a Dove. And dad- wow, dad… he was beyond excited. He hobbled over to me, reaching out for it. It was afraid, I felt it. I felt everything the bird was feeling somehow. The fear, the pain of the hook. Yet the second dad held it… it relaxed. I felt the trust it had for him. Dad explained how to remove the hook without inflicting further damage. Showed me how to soothe her, how to tell her without words that she was safe. We just sat there, holding the bird for a moment in silence."
Clarke felt the usual, expected clench to her vocal cords that seemed to be a common reaction to the images. It didn't take long for the burning sensation to invade her lungs and for her vision to blur at the edges.
"Time didn't seem to exist, in this place. The sun shone from beneath the clouds, making them golden instead of white."
She remembered the peculiar dream with such vivid details, it could have easily been mistook for a memory rather than a fragment of her frail imagination. She could still taste the salt in the air, and feel the lulling sway of their paddleless boat. The only sounds were the hypnotic creak of wood and the flapping of wings, which echoed rhythmically through the empty skies. And a quiet hum. A hum to a lullaby she knew well as an infant, when her father would cradle her in his arms and hum it until she dosed off into deep slumber.
"And then he stood," she continued, her own voice foreign to her from the heaviness it supported. "And said, 'Clarke, it's time.'"
Clarke cleared her throat and forced her lower lip to still. "I didn't want it to be. So I held onto the bird a while longer, spurting excuse after excuse as to why she wasn't ready yet. He of course, listened to every word I had to say. Always patient and calm, and understanding. And then I ran out of justifications. I ran out of reasons, and tears, and time. I guess he was waiting for that moment to arrive, because right then he offered a hand to me. I stood, noticing how the small boat rocked beneath our feet. 'Dad… and what she falls?' I asked him, looking to him and receiving a reassuring smile in turn.
'Oh, my darling Clarke… and what if she flies?'"
Clarke lowered the flowers gently atop Jake's grave, rogue tears staining the once light lilac petals, turning them into a deep violet. "When I finally forced myself to awaken, it was dusk. I had slept here for over nine hours." She told Abby, who appeared to be much closer than before. "I was disoriented at first, totally confused and lost. And then I saw it… the bird. A dove. Perched gracefully on a distant gravestone. I thought I was still in the dream, but the hunger I felt told me otherwise," Clarke looked to the same direction she had all those years ago, where the bird once stood. "And then it flew away. As effortlessly and unhindered as the wind itself, disappearing into the horizon in a blink of an eye. I knew it was a sign. That wasn't just coincidence, mom… it was a message. I knew then, that at that moment, I was exactly where I was meant to be. Had I woken up two seconds later, the bird would have been gone."
Abby nodded, rendered speechless by her daughters' heart wrenching story. She burst into tears the second she felt Clarke's hand envelop hers; felt her fingertips caress the rugged, silver wedding band she still wore around her finger.
"And we are, in a way, exactly where we are supposed to be," Clarke continued, her eyes looking to Jake instead of her. "You left. And I don't know if that is something I can ever truly get over. We needed you, mom. Aden and I… we were just as broken, just as devastated. Still… you came back," Clarke spoke earnestly, turning to her with such elegance and maturity that it left her more speechless still, "for now, that's enough."
/
"Ah, Miss Woods," a low, roughened voice croaked from behind a glass display in a greeting, "or shall I say, Mrs. Woods from here on out?"
The elderly man laughed heartily, wheezing out a few coughs from the strenuous effort. Aden gave the man a wary look, one of concern and awe that someone in such a fragile condition could produce such a powerful sound.
Lexa strolled across the small boutique to where he stood, grinning broadly at the title. Even spoken from coarse lips, the word still enveloped her like evaporated velvet.
"Not quite yet, Mr. Wallace," she said with a gentle shake to his frail hand, "I still need to get the girl to say 'Yes' first. And for that, I'm going to need that ring you promised me."
The man laughed once again, leaning against the display for support. "No worries there, my dear. No one can turn down a Woods!" He said confidently, slowly making his way around the display. "And who might this young gentleman be?"
"Why, none other than my potential future wife's kid brother," Lexa responded, shoving her hand into Aden's hair and tussling it around. "This is Aden Griffin, Mr. Wallace. Thought he should accompany me here today."
The glint that suddenly invaded the old man's eyes, restoring a sliver of his past youth to the hardened layers of old age, was not lost on Lexa. Unlike his deteriorating body, his mind remained intact.
A young lady with dark, coiled hair appeared in a back doorway. "Miss Woods, you're right on time," the woman spoke excitedly, waving Lexa over, "we're just about to put the finishing touches to the ring. We left the best part for you."
"Thanks, Maia," Lexa said, turning back to the old store owner. "Mind looking after the squirt for me while I'm back there, Mr. Wallace? I'll only be gone a moment."
He nodded his agreement, making his way to the golden-haired boy that currently pressed half his face to one of his glass displays.
"See something you like, Mr. Griffin?" He asked with mild humor. The question tasted of familiarity against his tongue.
Aden pulled back slightly, replacing his nose with a finger. "That's the one!" He exclaimed, jabbing the glass a series of times. "That's the ring I'm gonna get my girlfriend when I propose to her!"
"Ah, is that so," Mr. Wallace leaned in close, analyzing the ring. "My-oh-my, you have impeccable taste, son. She's a very fortunate young lady."
Aden nodded in agreement. "She deserves only the best. I'd buy it today, but…" he dug out his faux-leather SpongeBob wallet, pulling out a crumpled ten dollar bill and some change, "I'm a little short. Can I put a down payment on it? Or can you place it on hold for me for, say, fifteen years? Gotta wait until we both graduate college."
The proposition, although blatantly ludicrous, was so selflessly delivered that Mr. Wallace almost considered it.
"You know, when I first opened up this shop, some twenty something years ago, my customers weren't the wealthy type like Miss Woods," Mr. Wallace shared, inviting Aden over to a wall across the room. "They were ordinary, hard working men and women, with hearts abundant with love and joy but lacking in financial means. Since I was beginning to build my brand, with very limited means of my own, I would give these poor souls an alternate option: pay or trade."
Aden scrounged his brows, not sure he understood. "So… you'd give them a ring in return for something else that wasn't money?"
"Exactly right," Mr. Wallace eagerly nodded. "But there was a catch… the ring was only as valuable as the item they were willing to part with. I also had a business to run. Couldn't just be handing out free engagement rings to every love-stricken chum that strutted in." Mr. Wallace gave a frail laugh, scrutinizing the many faces plastered against his Wall of Fame. "That was many years ago… that all changed once some hot shot celebrity walked in, desperate for a ring, and I just happened to have a one-of-a-kind sitting in my drawer. I blew up like the Fourth of July after that."
The old man shifted his attention over to the first face to ever join his wall; a visual, chronological memoir of every customer to ever purchase from him. "Still… it was those first few customers… the broken yet hopeful, that I owe my business to. I assume you might recognize that name, son?"
Mr. Wallace pointed to the first picture, the one he had been analyzing previously. Aden squinted to get a better look, trying to make out the smallish letters into a legible word-
Gasp.
"Woods," he said barely above a whisper. "William A. Woods…"
Mr. Wallace smiled, the wheels of time turning backwards in his mind. "A gold-coated pen, he handed me. Valued at $75 dollars, brand new." He said, tilting his head and staring beyond the wall. "It was comical almost. I think I even laughed in his face. Mr. Woods told me the pen had been a gift from his father, for graduating University. His most prized possession, he said. The most expensive thing he owned."
"I couldn't blow him off, the poor lad. His eyes said it all… he had a sweetheart he was intent on marrying. And he was determined to make it happen. And so I crafted him a $75 dollar ring. I'll never forget the look of gratitude in his eyes… the ring may as well have been worth millions to him."
Aden finally pushed through the shock that had immobilized him, turning the weight of his gaze away from Mr. Woods and back to Mr. Wallace. "The pen… do you still-"
"Oh no, my boy, the pen is long gone." Mr. Wallace interrupted, saving Aden the trouble. "Mr. Woods returned, years later, after he had created his empire. It was a short visit, very brief and to the point. But he left here with his pen, which I never did have the heart to sell, and my most expensive ring, valued at $115 thousand dollars. I've had thousands of customers since then, met hundreds of A-list celebrities throughout the years, yet his is a face I shall never forget. His and one others'…"
It wasn't difficult to follow Mr. Wallace's gaze as it hopped from Mr. Woods' picture down one, two, three, f-
"I believe this gentleman is also no stranger to you."
It was a picture of a face Aden knew well. A face he dreamt about nearly every night. A face that with each passing day, increasingly resembled his own.
"Dad."
"Yes, dear boy," Mr. Wallace finally confirmed after a short pause, "your father sauntered into my store a short two weeks after Mr. Woods, just as broke and helpless and drunk on love as your late soon-to-be father-in-law."
Aden hung on every word that dripped out of the man's mouth, unsure how to react to the numbing news.
"A copper watch," Wallace announced, "is what he offered me. Valued at a measly $30 dollars at the time. It wasn't anything special, if I'm being honest. An old, unbranded, simple watch, not worth the trouble it would take to restore. Still, I couldn't turn him away. I saw how much he needed this. Saw the difficulty he was having parting with the worthless thing."
"Turns out, he had made it himself. He told me he did it during his freshman year of high school, after deciding he wanted to become an engineer. Said it took him nearly 200 hours of hard labor and a sore back but he finally got it working eventually. He was proud of that thing, I could tell. I figured that maybe it was worth something after all. His was the cheapest ring I ever produced, yet somehow it became my favorite ring. Still is, to this day. Anyway," Mr. Wallace lowered his gaze, finally returning to the present, "I didn't know him well, but your father seemed to be one hell of a man, son. You look…. very much like him."
There was one question that still remained unanswered. Yet Aden couldn't bring himself to ask. He couldn't bring himself to hope.
Mr. Wallace sighed. "I sold it, a few years ago. I held onto it for a while, in the off chance your father would one day return to reclaim it. When he didn't, I researched why. I'm sorry, son."
Aden nodded his understanding, but offered no words in return. He was relieved to see Lexa walking toward them a few seconds later, a look of shared empathy projecting from her eyes.
"You knew?" He asked, more of a statement than a question.
Lexa nodded, squatting to bring herself to his level. "I found out six months ago, kiddo. Before that, I had no idea. Didn't even know this place existed. I came here looking to get my watch adjusted." Lexa flexed her wrist, the Rolex was now snug against her arm. "Mr. Wallace recognized my name. He showed me the wall. He showed me the pictures. And then, he showed me ring designs." Lexa smiled, pushing away the traces of sorrow. "Because that just further confirmed what I already knew from the moment I laid eyes on your sister. That I was going to make Clarke Griffin my wife sooner or later. So, I chose sooner."
A small smile pierced through his gloomy expression. "Sooner… as in three stinkin' months after you met her? Raven is gonna have a field day when she finds out!"
Lexa's face plummeted. "If you promise to stay quiet about that, I'll show you the ring!" Lexa blurted, regretting it the second she saw his wide-eyed enthusiasm. "Fine… but you better act surprised tomorrow when Clarke shows it to you, deal?"
She pulled out a crimson velvet box from her trouser pocket, the letter 'C' delicately fashioned on its surface, made entirely of small but luminous diamonds. The second she cracked open the lid, she saw the rings' reflection dance across Aden's eyes.
"It's beautiful…" he said, mesmerized. "It's perfect, Lex. It's perfect…"
Once back in the car, a heavy silence once again descended between them. She remembered the sentiment, the same ones Aden currently wrestled with, when she found out six months ago.
"A, I got something for you too…" she said, pointing to the glove compartment. "Go ahead and open that."
He did as instructed, reaching blindly inside and pulling out a long, rectangular box nearly identical to the ring case Lexa had gotten Clarke. Except instead of a 'C', there was an 'A'. With as much care as he could muster, he pulled the halves apart. Inside, was a slender copper watch.
"Mr. Wallace has one hell of a memory, not sure if you picked up on that. Took him five minutes to figure out the customer he sold it to. Once I had a name, I had a PI do some research as to his whereabouts. Turns out that he was still living in the same address he had been when he bought the watch. When I went to see him, he was wearing it." Lexa filled in the blanks, giving Aden a moment to put the pieces together himself. "I told him the story, prepared to load him with cash if need be, except I never even got the chance to make an offer. He simply took the watch off his wrist and handed it to me."
Aden dragged the tip of his finger across the length of the watch, certain it was fake. Instead it felt exactly as he had imagined it. Looked even better than he had pictured it.
"Why?" He asked, gently lifting the watch off its cozy bed. "I would have been just fine without it. You didn't need to go through the trouble, Lex."
Lexa shrugged, smirking slyly.
"How else was I supposed to bribe you into being my Best Man?"
/
With a towel wrapped securely around her still dampened frame, Clarke waltzed out of her steamy bathroom and into a horror show unfolding atop her bed. Nemo, convinced that he played an innocent game of tug-o-war with his owner, must have interpreted Aden's shouts and orders as further incentive to keep on gnawing and yanking at the hem of a dress, his sharp fangs slashing through the fabric like a blade through water.
"Nemo! Bad boy!" Aden persisted, the upper end of the dress trapped between his hands, pulling in the opposite direction. "Let go, Nemo! Let go right now or we're both gonna die!"
Both blindly unaware that Clarke stood horrified, watching the entire ordeal mere feet away.
"NEMO! This is the last time I tell you!" Aden shouted again, only spurring Nemo on to pull with even more vigor. "That's it! I'm calling animal control! This is your last- oh… hey, Clarke." Aden dropped the dress the second he saw his sister's pale face and bulging eyes. Nemo, now that Aden was no longer challenging him, spat out the remnants of the dress and lowered his ears in shame.
"That- that was my DRESS, Aden!" Clarke screeched, waving a hand around furiously while the other still held the towel to her body. "The DRESS I was supposed to wear for my date tonight! Look at it! It's ruined!"
Aden picked up the tattered cloth, giving it a good look over. "If it's of any consolation," he spoke, shrugging, "it was pretty hideous. Nemo did you a favor."
A furious screech sent both Nemo and Aden scampering out of the room, colliding clumsily into one another as they struggled to squeeze past Clarke unscathed.
"I swear to god, I'm gonna- ah!- FUCK!" She bellowed, fanning through her closet in search of an ideal replacement. She gave up two minutes later, once it dawned on her that the dress she had selected was her best and nothing her closet could produce at the moment could substitute it. Well… not her closet at least.
Diving for her phone, Clarke tapped the second name under her 'Recent' tab, waiting impatiently as the phone began to dial the number. To her growing dismay, she was immediately transferred over to voicemail.
"Ray! I'm having a major crisis right now! Aden and Nemo ruined the dress I was supposed to wear tonight, and, well... I have nothing to wear. Now I know this is unprecedented and that in the past, when you'd randomly show up with a dress I'd always tell you to fuck off… but if you just happened to do that right now, I'll… I'll convince Lexa to let you have the Harley for a week! Just, please hurry!"
"Two weeks," a keen voice spoke from her bedroom entrance before Clarke could even disconnect the call. "Two weeks, and you got yourself a deal, kid." Raven countered with a quipped brow, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. Tossed over her shoulder was a black garment bag.
Clarke scoffed, torn between relief and irritation at seeing Raven's chin tilt arrogantly upwards in an unspoken 'checkmate'. "You were already on your way over with it, weren't you?" Clarke deduced, reckoning it to be the only valid reason for Raven's perfect timing. Still, she was unwilling to surrender just yet. She pulled her friend in and closed the door.
"Yep," the brunette nodded triumphantly, narrowing her gaze. "I think Nemo deserves to keep his balls after that little stunt. I'm canceling his procedure next week."
Clarke glared, yanking the bag out of Raven's hand. "So you already planned on giving me this," she said, unzipping the bag and pulling out a beautiful, satin black dress that made her mentally whisper remorseful apologies to Nemo, "before I even made the offer?"
Raven nodded once again, "Yep again. But hey, I still want that deal! Been wanting to get my hands on that Harley since I saw it."
Clarke dropped the towel unashamedly, slipping the dress over her bare skin for a test drive. "I can't make any promises…"
"Nah-uh! You already have, and besides," Raven's smirk widened as her gaze traveled the length of Clarke's figure, admiring the bared shoulders and pronounced collarbone on display, "I'm sure you can think up creative ways to get PG to say yes. Something tells me she'll be more than compliant by the end of the night."
Once she was dressed, Raven beckoned Abby over for hair assistance while she busied herself with perfecting Clarke's features by dabbing layers upon layers of makeup.
"Alright, what are we thinking?" Abby asked, brushing Clarke's mane from one side to the other, trying to determine a good starting point.
"Uh, just the usual, mom."
"Loose side bun, with a few strands draped just above her eye," Raven intercepted, putting on the finishing touches to Clarke's lips. She made a move to comment but abstained when Raven pressed the tip of a lipstick to her mouth.
The calm that surrounded them as the women worked was unceremoniously massacred by Aden and Nemo, when the pair barged through the half-opened door, earning a spooked squeal from all three. "My bad… We're back… I got it," Aden huffed trying to catch his breath, both his arms hidden behind his back. "Clarke, this is the second most important decision you'll have to make tonight, so pick wisely."
Clarke didn't miss the obnoxious, murderous stares her mother and Raven shot him.
"W-well, what I mean is," Aden cleared his throat, "you know, besides what you're gonna have for dinner. Chicken or fish? Wine or cocktail? That kinda decision! Anyway," he withdrew his arms, two pairs of brand new, Christian Louboutin Lady Peeps heels dangled from each hand. "Nude or black?"
"Where the hell did you get those, A?" She asked, jaw slack from surprise.
"Chill Barbie, they're mine, alright. I told the squirt to run over and get them." Raven jumped in, refocusing her attention back to the heels. "Nude or black? Your girl is gonna be here any second now so chop-chop."
"Nude." Clarke said immediately after, already admiring the shimmer that bounced off of its polished coat from afar. "All of this just for a date?"
Raven smiled, gliding the lipstick over her already crimson lips one last time. "Not just any date, babe. It's the ninth month-a-versary." She leaned forward, placing a loving kiss to Clarke's temple, an indication she was done. "That deserves something a little extra."
/
Déjà vu was, for a lack of better term, exactly what she experienced as she found the courage to bring her foot up high enough to graze the surface of the porch's bottom step. A porch that she had climbed dozens of times before, never even batting an eyelid. She took the steps one by one, reminiscing the moment she felt the similar rush of emotions jolt her heart into a frenzy, as though she had just finished running a marathon. She felt the tale-tell creek of wood beneath her feet, as she swayed her weight from one foot to the other, hoping to throw the nervousness she felt off balance. It wasn't until her knuckles made contact with the door, and she heard commotion from within the Griffin household, that Lexa felt her mind whir back to their first date.
She recalled the insecurity they both shared; an aspect that had plagued their earlier days together. Two hearts equally damaged and sheltered behind a mile-high wall, which occasionally waivered but never collapsed. Two souls cowering behind a steel armor, convinced that it was the sensible approach, the correct approach to prevent further agony. Just two people, with a spectrum of difference between them, and a lifetime of experiences pulling them together.
The sound of an unclicking knob called her back to the moment, and she watched, breath caught somewhere between her throat and lips, as the door swung ever so fluidly open. She had expected Aden, or Raven, or even Nemo to be the one to greet her. She was not prepared to come face-to-face with her blue-eyed vixen that still had the ability to rob the breath out of her. She didn't mind it, of course. When it came to Clarke, there wasn't a single part of her that she wasn't overly willing to give.
"Hello, Lexa." Clarke said lowly, with mild seduction to her tone, which brought Lexa's already frantic heart to a dangerous halt.
Still, she didn't miss a beat. "Hi, baby," she dipped her head in a bow, bringing one of Clarke's hands to her lips, her gaze never leaving Clarke's. "You look absolutely beautiful."
Clarke disregarded the compliment, her focus completely enraptured by the visual in front of her. Lexa in a tailored suit, a slim tie, and hair drawn back in a perfect ponytail deserved her upmost appreciation. Her knees buckled slightly when she noticed the subtle traces of eyeliner, which Lexa never wore, augmenting the vibrant green of her eyes into a new shade Clarke had never seen before. It was her usual forest green, only swirled with a splash of gold and seared into permanence by fire, so molten that if not for the charcoal rim, it would spill across the outer white vastness.
"You look very handsome yourself," Clarke husked with a wink, a signal the blonde also traveled back in time to that first date, and they both lingered simultaneously between past and present. For the sake of consistency, Lexa handed her the luxurious bouquet of red roses, to which Clarke accepted gratefully. Lexa made sure to refrain from shoving them at her chest this time around. "Thank you darling, they're beautiful."
Right on cue, Lexa thought, smirking. "Well… you're beautiful-er."
Once they had said their goodbyes to the three ogling heads peeping from the kitchen entrance, Lexa escorted Clarke to the limousine, where Gustus patiently waited.
"Looking as lovely as ever, Miss Griffin," Gustus complimented with a nod, opening the door for her.
"Why, thank you, Gus. Mind telling me where we're going today?"
"Nice try, Miss Griffin, but I wouldn't do that to Miss Woods," he replied back with a soft smile, closing the door once Lexa had slipped in after her.
"You know I don't like surprises, babe," Clarke tried, accepting the flute glass Lexa handed her, "where you taking me tonight?"
Lexa smirked, carefully pouring the champagne first into Clarke's glass, and then hers. "To the moon and back, baby." She said, clicking their glasses together and proceeding with a sip. "Patience, gorgeous."
Dinner, which was obviously on the schedule for tonight, was the first stop on the itinerary. The Chateau Marmont Hotel in West Hollywood sprung to life in the near horizon as Gustus curved into Sunset Boulevard, the street becoming gradually more congested the closer they approached.
"Well, well, well … I've been begging you to take me here for weeks and it appears you finally listened, Woods," Clarke taunted, trying to keep her budding excitement anchored, "guess you no longer find the place appalling and infested with snobby, rich parasites?"
"Oh, believe me, I still think that," she said, pulling her blonde in for a kiss, "but tonight's about you, so what I think doesn't matter. As long as I get to see that smile, a trip through hell is alright by me."
They settled into the patio, under a canopy of palm trees and a golden sky that progressively dimmed in tune with the setting sun. The dusk brought a mild breeze that washed over them like a calming perfume, perfect for their outdoor setting. Wine and champagne were both presented the instant their behinds made contact with the soft cushion of their chairs, both waiters looking expectantly to Clarke for her preference.
"Um, the wine, please."
"Club soda for me. Thanks."
It didn't take long for a group of men, all carrying violins, to surround them and begin a tune so harmonized, the sound appeared to have fused into the air and entered every soul in that patio via breath.
Everyone was silent. Listening fiercely as the tune switched from joyful and weightless to a heavier melody, crafted with the purpose to cause every pair of eyes to become saturated with tears. She didn't realize she was crying until Lexa placed her hand protectively over her own and handed her a paper napkin.
"Fuck, my makeup," she sniffed, shying away from embarrassment.
"No, don't," Lexa reached over, pausing a hand that was halfway to her face to wipe the evidence of her breakdown, "you look even more beautiful this way."
Dinner was marvelous. And the wine, although abundant, stopped after a while per Lexa's request.
"You're a lightweight, Griffin," she explained while sipping her club soda, "and I want you coherent. No passing out in the car tonight."
"And why is that? Where we going after this?" Clarke, of course, had to try.
Lexa leaned back against her chair, biting her lower lip mid smirk and throwing Clarke her specialty glare that had the unfailing ability to make the blonde's inner thighs quiver. "I don't know if you're aware, but that dress of yours has a rather short life span. Something tells me it won't make it past tonight."
The famished look that quickly seized Clarke's expressions, twisting curiosity and excitement into a half-lidded look and agape jaw, proved the change of subject had been entirely successful. Lexa took advantage of the moment to torment her further by reaching over and gently cupping her girlfriend's chin. "You look more edible than any of the desserts they have presented us tonight, babe. And if I can control the desire to pull you onto this table and devour you in front of all these fine snobs, I'm sure you can manage your curiosity for a few minutes longer, don't you think?"
The low growl that escaped Clarke's throat was more than enough answer for Lexa, who pulled back with a satisfactory 'good girl' whispered under her breath.
"Ah, perfect timing," Lexa announced a second later, upon seeing the dessert platter lowered onto the center of the table. "Speaking of dessert…"
She kept her gaze firmly on Clarke, wanting to memorize every adjustment that transpired across her face. She saw blue eyes, now shaded over by the faint lighting, shift to the plate for a quick assessment of approval, then lovingly jump back up to smile at her girlfriend, and then dart back down to the dessert and remain there.
Because unlike the previous time, the second examination held something she had missed during the first inspection.
A message.
'You.
Me.
New Adventure?'
Clarke read it multiple times, finally giving up trying to decipher its meaning and lifting her glance away from the plate and towards Lexa.
"New adventure, huh?" She asked, playfully swiping her index fingers across the caramel words and bringing them up to her mouth. "So, where we going?"
It was all the confirmation Lexa needed. The brunette nodded the waiter over to indicate they were ready for the tab. "Back to the past," she responded, paying the bill and waiting on Clarke to finish before summoning Gustus. "There's something I want to show you."
/
The limo slowly maneuvered its way towards the visitor's entrance of the massive building, coming to a stop at a nearly vacant lot. Clarke stared confounded at the edifice's glass exterior, eyes hovering over the name imprinted against its facade that was not unfamiliar to her.
"I don't understand…" she said barely above a whisper, "why did you bring me here?"
Lexa took her hand and gave a gentle tug. "Because there is something here that I need you to see. C'mon, beautiful. Trust me."
She followed Lexa hesitantly out of the vehicle, an uncertain feeling washing over her as she absorbed the details of her surroundings, still wondering silently what could have possessed her girlfriend to bring her back to here. They paused just beyond its impressive doors, staring inwards to where its current occupants moved about entirely oblivious that they were being monitored.
"Lexa, why-"
"Did I ever tell you that I was born here?" Lexa finally spoke, eyes still fixated somewhere inside.
Clarke exhaled, struggling to keep her discomfort from being noticed. "No… but that's hardly a surprise. I was born here too. Heck, I think majority of all Los Angelinos are born here, Lex. It's the preferred hospital in the area for childbirth."
Lexa smiled, nodding her agreement. "Yes, well… this is where I took my very first breath, babe. Somewhere inside this building, almost 24 years ago."
Clarke ran the pad of her thumb across the expanse of skin it could reach where it was encased by Lexa's own hand. "Babe, I'm not following…"
Lexa pulled her forward, past the sliding doors and into the lobby of the hospital. "My mother… she was rushed here by ambulance the night I was born. She had been home alone that night, since Indra was elsewhere at the time and my father was out of town on work-related business."
It was monumentally strange to be casually strolling the halls that she once roamed enthusiastically in the past. Clarke struggled to block away the distractions, seeing her attention was being pulled in multiple directions at once; the familiar portraits that hung on plain white walls; the flash of white coats and sneaker squeaks against tiled floor as doctors and nurses zoomed past them; the out-of-sync beeping from machines coming from the rooms they crossed. It felt like visiting an estranged friend.
"I was supposed to come three weeks later. I wasn't meant to be born that night, Clarke. So when my mom started to feel pain, when she saw that her clothes were suddenly stained with blood, she called for help." Lexa continued, pulling Clarke through the maze of hallways and small corridors. "She was a mess, that night. The nurses that tended to her said there was a complication, and that they would have to deliver me immediately or I ran the risk of dying."
Clarke felt her heart malfunction at the sound of the word 'dying' pass Lexa's lips. She tightened her grip around Lexa's hand, and received a reassuring smile from the woman she loved.
"It's okay, babe. It was a long time ago…" Lexa calmed her, feeling the blonde's pulse quicken under her fingers. "Anyway, my mom became frantic at that point. Begging the nurses to save me. To do whatever it took to make sure I survived."
"She shouted for my father, and even though one of the staff placed a call to him, he wasn't gonna make it back in time. See, I was dying, Clarke. I was suffocating inside my mother's womb. The ultra sounds showed I had shifted into the wrong position and wrapped the umbilical cord around my neck. The only thing to do was to have an emergency C-section and get me out. Before it was too late."
"Lex, please stop." Clarke begged, holding back the tears. "I don't want to hear this, okay?"
The brunette chuckled, engulfing Clarke in a tight embrace, placing her ear just above her chest so the blonde could hear her heartbeat and her lungs filling with air. "There's no need to be upset, my love. I'm here, aren't I? That means that story had a good ending."
Clarke nodded against her, still refusing to let go. She waited a moment before she continued.
"While my mother waited for the operating room to be prepared, all alone and terrified, a doctor that just happened to be walking by, noticed her." She once again took Clarke's hand, and pulled her forward, heading toward a nurse's station at the end of the hall. "The doctor was on her way home for the night, but decided to walk in and keep my mother company, so that she wouldn't have to be alone during the ordeal."
"When the nurses came in to wheel her into surgery, they found the doctor hunched over my mother, singing softly to her in an effort to keep her calm. She had… her hand over my mom's, fingers laced together, and resting over her belly. Over me. Apparently, according to the nurses at least, that was possibly what saved me in the end. This doctor, who was never even supposed to have been in that part of the hospital, kept my mothers' breathing steady, which was essential to keeping me alive."
They finally came to a pause in front of the deserted nurse station, and Lexa, without ever untangling their fingers, reached over the counter and lifted a long, heavy binder off the desk.
"Lexa! What are you- are you insane?"
"Shhh… it's okay. They gave me permission." Lexa winked, opening the binder and flipping through the laminated pages.
"My mom never did catch the doctor's name. In the state she was in, it's only natural that she might have forgotten it," Lexa spoke, browsing each page she flipped more carefully now, searching for something. "Indra told me all of this, by the way. And I remember my mother telling it to me when I was still a child, but it wasn't until a few weeks ago that I decided I wanted to see if I could locate the woman… the doctor potentially responsible for saving my life."
The flipping finally stopped, and Lexa's index slid down the page, pausing a quarter of the way down. Clarke looked from the book, to Lexa, still as mystified as ever.
"When I came in here to ask if anyone could help me, I somehow managed to ask one of the nurses that had been there that night. And to my luck, she remembered. We chatted for a long time. The nurse recounted the details of that night, of how my mother was in so much distress, she was beyond help. That was, until a doctor on her way home to begin her maternity leave walked by her room and stopped to help her."
Clarke's eyes shot up, scanning Lexa's face for more answers. "Maternity leave?"
Lexa nodded, pulling Clarke closer, pointing to a line within the page of the log book where her index still rested. "The doctor, in some crazy weird coincidence, also happened to be pregnant. The nurse mentioned she gave birth to a beautiful baby girl not even two months later."
Clarke's eyes immediately blurred upon reading the names scribbled, in old black ink, across the page.
'Patient:Victoria Shepherd. Surgeon:Dr. Green. Doctor in Attendance:Dr. Griffin.'
"I asked Abby if she remembered that night, and she mentioned she did in vague details. Although she had no idea the woman she helped had been my mother," Lexa explained, seeing Clarke was rendered speechless at the moment. "Probably because my mom still had her maiden name back then."
Clarke finally let out a trembling sob, unable to comprehend the magnitude of the information.
"This… is where our story begins, Clarke. Right here, within these walls where we both took our first breaths. Where your mother helped my mother when she was alone and afraid. They never saw one another after that, but I've no doubt in my mind that you, Clarke, somehow saved me that night, even before we were born."
"And maybe, just maybe, that is the reason why I lose the ability to breathe properly when you're not around me. And maybe, this is the reason why I need you, Clarke. Because I can't imagine a life without you in it anymore. I think… I would literally die if I had to continue without you, because you are air, babe."
Lexa professed, feeling the weight of the truth she spoke liberate every cell in her body.
"You are air, Clarke."
/
"Now where are you taking me?" Clarke questioned once they were back inside the car, noticing how Gustus drove in the opposite direction of home. "I swear to all that is holy and mighty, I will mutilate you if you make me ugly cry one more time today, Lexa. I love you, but my makeup is ruined."
Lexa grinned, pulling Clarke closer. "I think you look absolutely gorgeous, even with all the snot you got going on right now."
"Ah, humor. That won't get you very far tonight," Clarke stated, reclaiming the control. "I asked you a question. Where are you taking me now? Are there any more stories about my and/or your past that I should know about?"
"Just one. But I left it for Aden to tell it."
Clarke narrowed her eyes but didn't push. She figured if Lexa wasn't spilling the beans about whatever else she knew, it was because Aden had asked her not to. And she would rather face Clarke's wrath than betray the little man any day.
Gustus finally pulled to a stop in front of single-story, medium sized studio with a traditional white-paint brick façade as exterior décor, with wide windows traversing from one end of the front wall to the other. The outline of a former name remained imprinted just above the door, Clarke noted, squinting to make out its previous identity but unable to do so.
"Where are we, Lex?" She asked, following Lexa out of the car. She put forth a valiant effort to peer into the structure, but the lack of light emanating from inside made the task impossible. Its interior seemed to be consumed by an abysmal, unperforated darkness.
"I showed you the past," Lexa explained, grabbing a firm hold of her hand and tugging her towards the modern, all glass double doors. "Now I'd like to show you the future."
The doors swung outwardly with unexpected ease once jerked into action by Lexa, and almost immediately, Clarke felt the dynamic of the building, both in appearance and attitude, shift.
She entered first, so there would be nothing or no one to obstruct her view as she inhaled it all in, standing mere inches past the threshold for the best vantage point. The first thing she noted was that the darkness, or the blackness she had previously expected, had been manufactured. The windows and doors were covered in black tarp from the inside, making the filtering of light whether from the inside or outside, impossible. Now, that obscurity had been absolutely obliterated by the glow of thousands of miniscule lightbulbs that lined the length of the ceiling.
Walking a few feet into the spacious room, she studied the walls on either side of her, and counted a total of ten blank canvases, five per wall, all hung in equal distance from one another. Each frame was accented with its own lamp poised just above the canvas, which appeared to yearn for underserved attention.
"What happened here?" She asked, moving down the wall toward the small wooded stage at the far end of the room. Her eyes roamed far ahead of her, already inspecting the easel poised at its center from a distance, disappointment creeping when she realized the canvas that leaned against it was also void of color. "This used to be an art gallery, right? By the looks of things…"
Lexa followed a few feet behind, maintaining a safe distance between her and the blonde. "The previous owner unfortunately passed away a week ago. No, not here!" she added quickly following the pointed look she got thrown her way, "at home. From old age. The new owner is, from what I gathered, a love-stricken idiot who bought the place as a gift for the fiancé."
She maintained calm when Clarke turned her head slightly, shooting her a quizzical look but not a questioning one. She was still safe, for the moment.
"So… will it continue being an art gallery?" Clarke asked, turning back to face the stage.
"I guess that depends on the fiancé. And what she decides to do with the place. Anyways, I asked to borrow it for the night. I wanted to show you all the… magical possibilities the future holds."
Clarke's quizzical expression returned, and she once again scanned the room. "All I see are eleven empty canvases, babe. In a very nice, but very lifeless, all-white studio. I'm not sure what possibilities you're referring to."
"Oh, is that so? Because from where I'm standing, I see something entirely different," Lexa stated, looking around as though seeing the canvases for the first time. "I see… endless opportunities, illustrated in each one. I see a future, Clarke. I see sleepless nights spent engaging in nonsensical chatter in bed, discussing everything and nothing at all. I hear countless moments shared in laughter, the kind that makes tears roll down your cheeks. I feel the warmth of summer, the bitterness of winter, and the transition of seasons into years as we age and yet, each day that passes I somehow feel younger. I see birthdays and holidays split between two households. I see Aden transitioning from a kid, to an annoying teenager, to a successful adult. I see countless trips around the world. I see countless more adventures in our path. I see… Indra and Abby fussing over a blue-eyed, blonde-haired beautiful baby girl. I see struggles, and fights, and hardships. But I also see hope, prosperity and love. And after all of this has come to pass, I see us with grey hair and aching, transitioning into the next life together," Lexa paused, panting for air, "And I can see these possibilities Clarke, because in every scenario I have ever conjured of the future since you took over my heart, you are there. I don't see emptiness when you're around beautiful. I see endless promises…
In every one. In every way. As though you are the pillar holding it all together."
Clarke of course, was already tearing up at this point. And Lexa saw the rawness in her eyes, the knowledge that what the blonde was currently feeling coincided with her words.
"And this," Lexa pointed behind her, to the canvas hoisted on the easel. "This is just another part of that bigger picture." She grabbed two used tubes of paint that had been left by the foot of the easel, selecting two different colors. "Give me your hand?"
Clarke complied swiftly, rolling up her dress sleeve in preparation for what was about to come. Lexa squeezed the paint out of one of the tubes onto Clarke's palm, apologizing when she felt the blonde wince from the coldness of the paint. She repeated the same action on herself using the second tube.
Carefully, she pressed Clarke's hand against the tightly woven fabric of the canvas, pulling back seconds later to analyze the perfect off-purple imprint left behind. The quality of the copy was better than expected, with every digit intact with all the correct lines. Lexa then pressed her own hand to it, making sure to place her thumb just over Clarke's so that it overlapped the smaller digit. The grey imprint she left behind was equally impressive, and with her clean hand she reached for a towel that had also been discarded in the near vicinity.
"What do you see, Clarke?" Lexa asked wiping her hand free of the sticky paint, and then proceeding to do the same for Clarke.
The blonde stared intensely at Lexa's masterpiece, trying to find the right words that could properly describe the sentiment she felt. There were no ideal words, of course, so she settled for the best ones she could utter at that moment.
"Us," she finally said, tracing the outlines of their fingers with her eyes and letting her gaze linger where their hands connected to one other in a permanent, eternal seal. "I see us. I see… you protecting me for as long as we're together, that's the symbolism of your thumb over mine, right?"
Lexa nodded, smiling back at her teary-eyed goddess. "Always."
"And, I see happiness, in the color you chose for me. Purple is my favorite, but you knew that. You knew it's my happy color. And yours… grey can mean many things. Uncertainty, turbulence, confusion. But while I do see those things being present in our relationship, I also see equilibrium. I see timelessness. I see forever too, Lexa."
"You see beyond the emptiness now?" Lexa asked, retrieving a small controller out of her pocket.
"I do," Clarke admitted, turning to look back at the other colorless frames that hung on colorless walls. Looking at them with new eyes and a new appreciation.
"Good, because when it comes to you Clarke, even the dullest moments seem beautiful to me." And suddenly the lights gave way to complete darkness. So profound Clarke immediately sought the one thing that could comfort her in any situation.
"I'm right here," Lexa whispered by her left ear, a hand protectively on the small of her back. "What do you see, babe?"
Clarke squinted, shaking her head. "I don't see-"
And then the room lit up.
The walls, from end to end, vibrantly showcasing colors that glowed dazzlingly, slicing through the darkness as they appeared to dance across the room. The colors had no pattern, no visible beginning and end, yet they existed in perfect harmony, blending into one beautiful, orchestrated mess.
Her eyes moved to the canvases she had inspected earlier, hopping from one to the next, discerning the words that slowly appeared in each.
"Oh my god…"
She read them all, and when she finished, she read them again, submerging herself into this sliver of a world Lexa had created for her.
"Clarke Abigail Griffin, I, Alexandra Mae Woods, promise to love you fiercely," Lexa began reiterating the promises printed on each piece. "I promise to protect your body, soul, and mind."
"I promise…
'to provide for you.'
'to defend and support your dreams.'
'to fight away your demons with you.'
'to make you smile and laugh.'
'to earn your forgiveness for the moments I make you cry.'
'to make you my every priority.'
'to be someone you are proud of.'
'to worship your beauty and spirit.'
'to give you the universe, because you are mine.'"
Lexa spun her then, so that instead of the entrance, Clarke now faced the back wall. Almost instantaneously she felt Clarke's weight shift backwards in surprise, followed by a hollowed squeal.
In perfect calligraphy, one that never broke but continued bled from one word into the next, the back wall of the studio revealed the biggest promise of all.
'Clarke Griffin, will you Marry Me?'
It took Clarke few elongated seconds after committing the sentence to memory to realize that the lights were back on. She stared at a now blank wall, void of the beauty she had just witnessed.
She turned, looking for the only beauty that really mattered, and found her kneeling a few feet away. A small box tucked between both her hands and inside, the most breathtaking ring she had ever seen.
"What do you say, beautiful?" Lexa prompted, unsurprised that her blonde stood trembling, a stream of tears wiping the remnants of the makeup she had left. "Will you do me the honor of-"
"Yes."
Lexa wasn't sure she digested the answer correctly. "Yes, as in, yes you will-"
"Marry you, Lexa, yes!" Clarke blurted impatiently. "Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times over, yes!"
Lexa slowly rose to her feet, trying to maintain her composure but unable to when she felt her own legs wobble. She plucked the ring out of the box and slid it over an already waiting finger. Once the ring found its new home, she waited no time to kiss the hell out of her new fiancé.
"I'll be honest, for a second there I thought you were gonna say 'No'," Lexa admitted shyly, cracking Clarke a large smile.
Clarke tossed her arms around Lexa's shoulders, pulling her back in. "You mumble in your sleep babe, did you know that?" She asked, placing a kiss to her lips and chin. "I found that out one night, one of the first times we spent the night together. Woke up to you mumbling incoherently whilst tossing around the bed. However one thing you said that night was surprisingly clear. 'Gon' marry Clarke one day. Wife her up.'"
Lexa's face paled, toning to the same whiteness of the walls.
"No way! I-I…really?"
"Oh, yes… you sounded super sure of it, too."
"Oh… and, um, w-what did you think?"
Clarke kissed her again. "Why, I said yes back then too. See, I thought you couldn't hear me, but the second I said it, you smiled, relaxed, and stilled. It was always a 'Yes' when it came to you, Woods. I just needed you to actually ask."
They stood enjoying each other's arms for a while, just cherishing the moment.
"I must say, I don't think the owner will be very happy to know you vandalized her studio, fyi," Clarke breached the silence, her head cocooned in the crook of Lexa's neck.
"Nah, she seems pretty happy to me. I think she'll be alright."
Clarke's head snapped upright the second she understood the hidden connotation.
"You didn't… "
"Did what? Buy you this studio? As of a week ago, you are its new owner and I that humble idiot I mentioned before." Lexa confirmed, caressing the lines of disbelief that had appeared on Clarke's face. "I promisedto defend and support your dreams, remember?
I figured this was a good way to honor that promise, don't you, soon-to-be Mrs. Woods?" She knew it was a dangerous gamble, but one she had been waiting to enter into for a long time.
"I believe it will be Mrs. Griffin-Woods," Clarke corrected her gently, "now I know you have one last promise to uphold from earlier, having to do with a certain dress and an expiration time? Well, Mrs. Woods, I think that time is up."
/
***Author's Note***
One more chapter until the very end! Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me thus far! This story started exactly a year ago and we promise to wrap it up beautifully! Please leave your reviews! This was a very emotional/frustrating chapter to write and I'd love to hear your opinions!