(Elle)
I guess I will have to wait and see. But he knows as well as I do that I don't actually want him to stop. I stare goofily at him, still having trouble believing we finally made it here.
"Oh! We forgot about the ring!" I suddenly realize.
"We did a lot of things out of order. And would now be a good time to admit I didn't actually get you an engagement ring?" Noah asks with a chuckle as he retrieves the jeweler's box from his pocket.
"Really? So you were just carrying an empty ring box around to freak me out? Or, wait, did you plan this whole thing? Was this all a giant set-up where you figured the best way to get me to make up my mind was to make me think you were about to propose?"
"No, although I'm flattered you think I'm that wily. Or insulted you think I'm that underhanded. Either way, I did get you a ring. It's just not an engagement ring."
"How is a ring you got to propose to me with not an engagement ring?" I ask curiously.
"You mentioned once there was a ring of your mom's you wanted to make into a ring for yourself. So I thought now might be the right time... but I can't do that without you. So I figured I'd get something else to propose with, and then we'd figure out the engagement ring."
"I told you that? About my mom's ring?" I wonder if I look as surprised as I feel.
"No... but you told my mom, and I overheard."
"When?" I have no memory of this, and talking to June about rings would have been weird while Noah and I were together, when she was already heavily hinting at her hopes for us.
"I don't know—a while ago. We were all having lunch, and your dad had just given you that star necklace. I guess that's why you and Mom were talking about jewelry."
"The star necklace? But we weren't dating then. You were taking notes on engagement rings when I was fifteen?"
Noah rolls his eyes at me. "No. I was just... listening to you. And that's what you were talking about, that particular day."
"And you stored away that information just in case seven years later you decided to propose to me?"
"You make it sound so calculated. No, back then I didn't imagine I'd ever need the information. I just liked listening to you talk. And then I remembered about it this spring."
Of course he did. That's what he does, he remembers. Everything. And it usually leads to what's happening now, which is me trying not to cry again.
"Anyway, so that's why this isn't an engagement ring, because I wanted you to have a chance to use your mom's ring. Or whatever else, if that's not actually what you want." Noah adds.
The trying not to cry isn't going well, and since words are failing me I settle for squeezing his hand until I feel steady enough to speak.
"It is what I want. It hadn't occurred to me to use her ring this way, but it would be perfect. Really."
The ring he'd overheard me talking about is actually my great-great grandmother's ring, a milky opal in an intricate filigree setting. The opal has gotten battered over the years—Mom was of the opinion that there's no point owning jewelry if it's just going to live in a box, so she wore the ring often—but I love the delicate lacy scrollwork of the setting and I'd always thought one day I might replace the opal with a different stone. I'd never imagined using it for an engagement ring, but now I desperately want to.
"Are you sure? I don't remember your mom's rings, so if this isn't the right kind of ring for —"
"Noah," I cut him off. "No take-backs. This is what I want. I wish I had a picture I could show you, but it'll be perfect. And then I'll get to wear it every day." I lean across the table to kiss him, glad for the relative privacy of our booth.
We sit in silence a minute, just enjoying the moment, and then finally I crack.
"So... is there anything in that box?"
"This box here, you mean? Oh, yeah." Noah feigns indifference, pretending to be captivated by the menu again.
"Is it a ring-pop? Or something from a Cracker Jack box that I'm going to feel bad not remembering that I gave you ten years ago? Ooooh, is it one of those giant fake diamond rings from that booth at the mall?"
"No, it's a real ring, not a joke. I figured the point of asking you to marry me was hoping you'd need one of these soon, and in this case I was pretty sure I knew what you'd like."
Noah slides the box closer to me, still grinning slyly. "Take a look."
I think I've guessed now, and I reach for the little box that set off this whole weird week. I lift the lid and discover I was right: it's a wedding ring, a simple gold band inset with diamonds and rubies scattered all the way around, square-cut just like those in my bracelet.
"You bought me a wedding ring." I state the obvious.
"Yeah." His smile is almost shy.
"To match my bracelet."
"You wear that every day, and I was hoping you'd wear this every day, too."
"You're very good at this." I whisper.
Now his smile has regained some of its usual swagger.
"Too bad I won't get to use these skills again."
"The proposal skills? Yeah, you'd better be done with those."
I stare at the ring a minute longer. "Can I try it on? Even if it's not for right now?"
"I was hoping you would. And you can wear it now, if you want. It is an engagement ring, too, until we can get the other one ready."
I slide the ring on and it fits perfectly. "Did you steal one of my rings to size this?" I ask curiously.
"Mickey did." Noah admits.
"You told Mickey you were going to propose and she didn't warn you I'd probably be an idiot and need a whole week to say yes?"
"Ah, no," Noah chuckles. "But when I asked her to send me a picture of your mom's bracelet, so I could make sure those earrings would match it, I guess she decided to be proactive and also send me your ring size."
Yeah, that sounds like something Mickey would do. I twist the ring around a few times, getting used to the feeling of it.
"I didn't know if this would work with your mom's ring, though. We could look for something else, if it doesn't." Noah offers.
"No way. I love this. If it doesn't fit with my mom's ring, I'll wear that one on my other hand. But you have to get a matching wedding band. That's my one condition. I want our rings to match."
The ring is perfect and now that it's on I hate the idea of taking it off, but it also looks way too much like a wedding ring to wear as an engagement ring. Maybe I could wear it on a necklace, so I can have it with me but save wearing it for once it means everything it should. Once it's a vow and not just a promise.
Except... don't those mean the same thing, a vow and a promise? At least, they should. I wouldn't have put myself through this whole week of hand-wringing if I'd been willing to take engagement less seriously than marriage. I want to marry Noah, not just be engaged to Noah. I'm still staring at the ring, still getting used to its presence on my hand, and suddenly I know exactly what I want.
"Hey, Noah?" I reach for his hand to get his attention again.
"Yeah?"
"Let's get married."
"Are we going to take turns proposing to each other now? I like the idea, but once each seems like enough." He's grinning at me, and I realize I need to be clearer.
"No—I mean, let's get married. Not just engaged, married. Now, before the baby."
"What?" He'd been about to take a bite of his dinner and suddenly his fork falls back to his plate, forgotten.
"I don't want to wait. I want us to be married. If we're going to do this, and we just agreed we are, why not do it now?"
"Elle, you're due in less than a month. There's no way we can get married that fast." Noah's staring at me, dumbfounded.
"Sure we can. We just need to go to city hall, sign some papers, say I do. We could probably be married tomorrow if we wanted."
"Don't you want people to be there? We haven't even told anyone we're engaged. We can't just spring a wedding on them without warning." He's raising reasonable objections, but his eyes tell a different story.
"The important people could be there. Our parents, Lee, Brad. I'm pretty sure they'd be happy to clear their schedules on short notice if it meant the two of us getting married. And we can have a party with friends later, next year. We can even have another ceremony then, do the whole big wedding thing, if you want. But I want us to get married now."
"Elle, if it's all that legal stuff Dad keeps nagging about, we don't have to rush just for that."
"It's not that, I promise. It's just... it's not being engaged to you that I want, it's being married to you. And I want us to do this parenting thing together from the start. Officially together. I don't need to... hedge my bets or wait and see. I'm all in. I don't want to wait."
"You're crazy."
The impulse comes over me before I can think better of it and I drop my voice an octave before responding. "Crazy about you, Noah."
"Did you — you did not just say that." Noah sputters, and I laugh at the look on his face.
"Oh, but I did. I did say it. It's a great line, isn't it? Really persuasive."
"It's my line." Noah protests indignantly, and there is nothing I love more than knocking him off balance.
"Ah, but what's yours is mine, right? Or soon enough, anyway." I tease.
"Elle, this is serious."
"Yeah, it is. And it was just as serious when you used that line. Or at least it was for me, on the scale of my life at the time. And now would be a really bad time for you to finally reveal you weren't serious then."
Noah lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. "No, I was serious. Maybe not fully aware exactly what we were getting into... but I meant it. And I still do."
"Good. Because I'm dead serious about this too. So we're doing this. We're getting married. Now." I conclude in triumph.
"You're crazy. But yes." Noah shakes his head, a grin taking over his face.
"Crazy about —"
Noah swoops across the table to silence me with a kiss. "Elle, seriously, you have to stop saying that. Or at least stop trying to sound like me while also trying to seduce me. It's just—all kinds of disturbing."
Laughing, I tug at his arm. "Come sit next to me if you're going to keep doing that. If they glare at us for cuddling, I'll explain I just convinced you to marry me. And then you can tell them your story about this diner. It's a good story."
Noah slides into my side of the booth, wrapping an arm around me to let me lean back against him.
"Fine. If you're sure this is what you want, I'm sure as hell not going to object. But I do have one condition to this ridiculous plan. You have to be the one to tell my mom this wedding is happening right now." Noah chuckles.
"We could not tell anyone. Get married just the two of us, just for us, and have a big wedding later for everyone else. Tell them about the engagement, but not the wedding. This is for us."
"No, no more secrets. If you don't care about having a big wedding, and I definitely don't, we're not going to hide this just to cater to what other people might want. And besides, I promised your dad."
"You talked to my dad about weddings? Before we decided to?"
"Not recently—in the hospital, remember? When he found out I'd pretended to be his son in law. I promised him then that if we actually got married, we'd tell him beforehand."
"Oh, that. You do know he was high on painkillers and probably doesn't remember, right?"
"Doesn't matter; I remember. And even if I hadn't promised, he'd still kill me if we did this secretly. Not to mention my mom. So if you want us to get married before Dinah shows up, and you want me to still be alive when Dinah shows up, then we're telling our families."
"Fine. But—tomorrow, not tonight. Tonight is for us."
And in the meantime, until we can make this wedding happen, I'm keeping this ring on. It may not be official yet, but the decision was made a long time ago. I'm marrying Noah Flynn.