March 1. Downtown Gotham. 9:10
Diana
I love the sun. I love the brightness it casts over the gloomy city, promising a better day over each hidden corner it illuminates. I love the heat that radiates from its core, the warmth it brings, giving life to those things left dead by the harsh temperament of Gotham winters. I love the hope it brings when you wake up to see the sun peeking through the clouds, greeting you with a magnificent glimpse of all you can accomplish.
Growing up in Greece, the sun greeted me most mornings. I often found myself staring out at the ocean in awe, wondering how something so seemingly small could be so powerful. When Mother and I had moved to Gotham, my sunshine filled days were soon overshadowed by the gloomy overcast and clouds that reigned over the Gotham skies most of the year. Eventually I learned to find the beauty in the vastly different weather of Gotham to my hometown. That did not mean I still did not miss the sunshine.
Every time the sun took a chance, peeking through the low clouds that filled the sky, I was out soaking it up. When I went back to Greece for a few years after college, I spent most days outside, soaking up the warmth, storing it up for the winter nights here in Gotham when it felt like the wind chilled me to the bones. The sunshine was a rarity, and I never wanted to take it for granted. This would explain why the phone call I had received an hour ago had frustrated me to no end.
When Charlie had called me at nearly eight this morning, I had had a foot out the door, ready to run some personal errands before enjoying my one day to myself in nearly three weeks. Things at work had become hectic, and with a new exhibit expected to open at the end of the month, I had spent every waking moment focused on work. Of course, once Charlie had called, frantically explaining they were having an issue procuring one of the items for the exhibit, I knew the sunshine would have to wait. I had a job to do.
My footsteps squeak against the freshly waxed floors as I make my way to my office, trying not to overthink the vague message in Charlie's call earlier. I am unable to help the worry that settles over me and my feet begin to carry me faster, making a sharp turn at the end of the hallway. The cell phone in my coat pocket begins to ring and I quickly pull it out, a small sigh escaping my lips when I see Bruce's name flash across the screen. He's been in Star City for the last few days, meeting with Oliver Queen and his company, trying to find a way to save the company of the reformed playboy. Bruce knows all too well how a bad image can ruin a company, as he nearly lost his because of stupid mistakes on his end. Fortunately for Bruce, he had Lucius. Oliver, however, did not.
Silencing the phone, I continue down the bright hallway, shoving the device back into my coat pocket promising to return his call when I am not in the middle of a drawback that could not only hurt my career, but also the reputation of the museum. Besides, Bruce will understand. He knows it has been a busy week, and although I hate the months when we are both so busy we hardly get to see each other, it's nice to have a partner who understands the demands of a job. Bruce doesn't fret when I have to stay late at the museum. He doesn't complain when I have to drop plans last minute because an artifact goes missing. He respects my job, as I do his, and I love him all the more for it.
When I finish my journey down the hallway, I continue into my office, barging in the door, ready for whatever chaos may be on the other end. My stomach sinks when I see Charlie on the phone, sweat dripping down the side of her face as she clenches the half eaten bagel that was surely her breakfast in her hand. She frantically waves me over, trying to distract me from the two men sitting at her desk, their head in their hands- whatever has happened is not going to be an easy fix and something tells me I'm going to have to cancel dinner with Alfred for the second time this week.
Immediately my fingers begin to work their way to the buttons on my coat, pulling one loose, ready to settle in for the day and fix this mix up, before Charlie lifts a finger and shakes her head. She nudges a few of her dark curls out of her face, staring at me with dark brown eyes while she nods to whoever is on the other end of the phone. "Of course," she says after a few moments, forcing a laugh to hide the anxiety that is beginning to creep up. "We'll get it fixed right away, Sir," she says, addressing the mystery caller.
My heart begins to pound. Charlie is usually so confident, so sure of herself and her abilities. That is why she is part of my team. When I took this job, I was up against candidates with much more experience, both in museums and in life. I was younger and I was still looking for ways to change the way museums ran, and many did not like that. My first year I ran into a lot of hurdles, but I pushed through, eventually gaining the trust of the board of trustees. That didn't mean I had been able to slack off. In fact, every exhibit, every artifact, every presentation, I need to do my best, which is why I work with the best.
Charlie is my main assistant curator. She knows the ins and outs of every exhibit here in the museum, and on the occasion I am not here, she is able to run things flawlessly. But the look she has on her face is making me worry more by the second. "I will call you with an update soon," Charlie promises into the phone, letting another nervous chuckle pass through her lips before she ends the call, slamming the phone onto the base in the corner of her desk.
"Do I want to know who that was?" I ask
Charlie shakes her head. "Andrew Lemming," she answers anyway. She wipes her sweaty palms onto her pant legs, turns, and grabs something off her desk.
Something big must have happened if the President of the Board of Trustees is calling demanding it be fixed right away. "Someone mislabeled one of the accounts," Charlie explains, glaring at the two men seated behind me. Arthur and Daryl are our newest hires, and they both came highly recommended- it's hard to imagine them making a mistake this crucial. "One of the shipments got mixed up and is halfway across town but because you're the one who put in the original order, you're the one who has to go down there."
She hands me a sticky note and I read the address written in blue ink. It's going to take at least forty minutes to get to where this is and probably another hour to get everything situated. I will definitely need to call Alfred to cancel our dinner plans tonight. The thought alone makes me sad, as he was going to tell me about Bruce's second grade volcano project that went horribly wrong, resulting in a complete renovation of the kitchen; it was definitely a story that would produce a laugh big enough to cure the stress of the last few days.
I shove the sticky note containing the address into my pocket beside my phone and turn on my heel, walking out of the office with a nod to the two men who are still sulking at Arthur's desk. I walk through the maze that constructs the basement of the museum, a sense of urgency lingering in my movements. It isn't long before I am in my car, jabbing the keys into the ignition and bringing the vehicle to life, before speeding off, hoping I can fix this before everything else goes sideways.
West End. 11:17.
The drive to the west end takes longer than expected, thanks to a fender bender on the highway that blocked nearly three of the four lanes. I had offered to help, silently cursing myself for offering a helping hand when I was on a strict timeline myself, however the two drivers only shook their heads and went about their day, already halfway through with exchanging information. Not wanting to press my luck, I drove straight to the address Charlie had given me, focused on the task at hand.
I knew it was going to be a long day. When I was done here, and had the artifact safely in my possession, preferably in a vault at the museum, I was in for a ton of paperwork. I would need to figure out how the mix up happened and how I would be able to assure the Board something like this would not happen again. Thank the gods I had accepted the second cup of coffee Alfred had offered this morning. I was going to need it.
I turn the wheel of my car one last time, letting the vehicle make the last turn that my GPS orders from me, before I shift gears, placing the car in park in front of a warehouse, and pull the keys from the ignition. My phone rings from the inside of my coat again, and I reach into my pocket, unable to help the sigh that falls from my mouth, worried about what else might be happening at the office. Bruce's name flashes on the screen once more, causing my lips to curl into a smile even though I swear my hair is graying from all the stress. Just the thought of him relaxes me slightly and even though I know I need to get into the warehouse, I want to hear his voice, if only to prevent the raging migraine I can feel forming at my temples.
"Hi," I say into the phone, placing it to my ear, letting my head fall back onto the top of my seat.
"Hi," is his response. "Everything okay?"
"No," I answer truthfully. He's going to hear about it when he comes back anyway, there is no use lying to him now. "One of the pieces for the Tibet exhibit is missing and I'm trying to track it down."
"How did that happen?" he asks. I find myself shrugging, even though I know he cannot see me, and pinch the bridge of my nose. Hearing his voice wasn't as soothing as I had wanted, and I can feel the tension growing by the second.
"I don't know," is all I say, as I reach into the glove compartment, pull out a bottle of aspirin, open it, and dump two pills into my hand. "I'm fixing it."
"That's why they pay you the big bucks," he says. I know there is that stupid smirk on his face and I shake my head and scoff.
"Shush." My eyes glance up to my dashboard, taking a look at the time displayed. My hand reaches across my body and unbuckles my seat belt, before it grabs the handle to the door of my car and opens it up. "I have to go," I explain, stepping out of the vehicle and onto the sidewalk that leads to the warehouse. "I'll talk to you later."
"Of course," he says. "Don't stress out, Diana," he says, "it'll work out." With that he ends the call.
I close the door to the car, clenching my keys tightly in my hand as I try to let out a steady breath, trying to calm myself. As I follow the cemented path to the front of the warehouse, I slip my keys into my coat pocket. My phone is inches from following my keys to their fabric resting spot when it begins to ring again.
"Hello," I answer so quickly I don't even bother to look at the number flashing on the screen.
"Di," Charlie's voice rings out, "you make it to the warehouse?"
"Yes," is my answer. When I reach the front of the warehouse I let the door slide open before I step inside, letting the hot air radiating from the heater behind the front counter warm my body. The receptionist who stands beside the heater smiles my way, pushes her glasses up her thin nose, and tilts her head. "Hi," I greet, trying my hardest to conjure a friendly smile. It is not this woman's fault I am here. She deserves some common courtesy.
"Hello," she says. "How can I help you?"
I shift my phone, moving the mic away from my mouth as Charlie is not the intended other party for this conversation, and pull my work badge from where it hangs around my neck. "I'm from the museum," I say, handing her the badge. "There was a mix up that I was told I needed to fix."
She lifts my badge, reads my name, and nods. "Ms. Prince, of course!" she exclaims. "Yes, I do believe we have something for you." She lets go of my badge and I stuff it back into my jacket, watching as she disappears behind the counter, only to appear moments later carrying a small wooden box. "Here it is," she says as she places the box onto the counter. She hands me a receipt and offers me a pen, watching as I sign for it, before she offers me another smile. "Thank you. You're all set."
Confused, I only nod and walk out of the building, the wooden box tucked safely under my arm. "Well that was quicker than I expected," I say into the phone, unlocking the car and hopping inside.
Charlie lets out another nervous chuckle. "Did you get the right one?" she asks.
My hand reaches for the glove compartment, opens it, and pulls out the pocket knife that I keep inside. My shoulder raises up and pins the phone to my ear and my hands work the knife around the box, slicing the labels and stickers around the box, carefully wiggling the blade between the boards trying to pry it open without damaging what is inside.
The box opens and I flash a grin, happy with my success. I carefully fold the knife and place it back into the glove box and place the top piece of wood onto my passenger seat, glancing into the box, hoping to find my artifact safe and sound. What I don't expect, however, are the four flowers laying inside. "What the hell," I mutter, lifting the flowers from the box, and rummage through the packing materials in hopes of finding the missing item. "There's no mask."
Charlie lets out a giggle and I stop my search. "I'm sorry," she says, "but I couldn't help myself."
My eyes narrow and I toss the box containing only paper packing material onto my passenger seat. Charlie has always been one to pull practical jokes, and while I would be on the receiving end of those pranks from time to time, none were nearly this elaborate or time consuming. "You're an ass," is the only thing I can say. "You made me come in for this."
"No, Di," she says, "it wasn't me. I was only a part of this elaborate plan."
My eyes scan over the flowers in my hand, clenching the four roses. There is a note laying in the box and I am quick to reach for it, my eyebrow raising as I read the all too familiar handwriting. I will love you until the last one dies. I take another look at the flowers and notice one is brighter than the other three and my lips curl into a smile when I realize it is plastic.
Bruce.
A comment made the night of our Freshman Orientation, when Bruce and I had been watching some cheesy romance movie where the main love interest had done something similar. I can't believe he remembered this, after all those years.
"Yeah, yeah," I say, remembering Charlie is still on the other end, "You're still an ass."
Charlie laughs harder. "Everything is all good here. Enjoy your days off."
Days? I know I'm supposed to be in tomorrow, but if Charlie says they don't need me, I won't push it. Considering I've spent a good portion of my actual day off on this wild goose chase, I deserve some time off.
Charlie ends the call and my fingers are quick to dial Bruce's number. It rings twice before he answers, but when he does, I can tell there is still a smirk on his face. "Hello?" he answers, trying to feign innocence.
I blow past his innocent demeanor, knowing he is up to something. "You're an ass," I whisper. "I mean, I love you, and the flowers, but you're an ass."
Bruce laughs and I fight to keep the scowl on my face. "But also romantic," he states.
I can't agree with his tactics, but I also cannot deny his claim. Bruce is one of the most romantic people I know. I secretly wonder if he enjoys the old romance movies I've forced him to watch countless times. "Yes," I agree, "but why?"
"Did you read the card?" he asks.
"Mmhmm."
"The whole card?"
The whole card? Was that one sentence not the only thing? I quickly turn the card in my hand, noticing the business logo in the middle of the card. The address is on the bottom along with Bruce's handwriting: I have some good news.
"What's your good news?" I ask unable to help myself. I know he's not going to tell me, he's going to force me to be patient. He's going to force me to play along with his little scavenger hunt, although I can't deny it's enthralling.
"Na uh," he says. "No cheating."
"Fine," I say, adding the address into my phone, getting the directions to my next stop. "I'll talk to you later."
"I love you."
"I love you too," I say. He hangs up the phone and I place the device on the dashboard, watching as my custom route comes up, ready to guide me through the streets of Gotham. I quickly start my car and drive off, wondering where in the world Bruce is sending me and what is waiting for me once I get there.
Gotham Heights - Gracie CuppaJoe. 12:02.
The smell of coffee and fresh baked pastries fill the air as I step through the front door of the small corner shop. There are a few customers scattered around the room, each enjoying the last remnants of their caffeine concoctions and sweets. It brings a smile to my face when one of the baristas looks up from the register and offers me a large smile.
"Good morning," he says, wiping the counter with a rag, trying to clean before the lunch rush comes in for their caffeine fixes. "What can I get started for you?"
I contemplate whether I should indulge in another cup of coffee, having already had two this morning. However, the stress that both Bruce and Charlie have put me through should warrant another - maybe just a small. "She's with me."
I turn to face the owner of the voice. "What are you doing here?" I ask casually, smiling at the woman who offers me one of the small cups of coffee in her hands, before she turns to nod at the barista, who goes about his day.
Lois takes a sip from the remaining cup in her hand and flashes me a smile of her own, letting her shoulders shrug. "I was in the neighborhood," she says with a smirk. It is all I need to hear to know she's in cahoots with Bruce.
The two of us make our way to an empty table near the door, each taking a seat in a chair as we make ourselves comfortable. Lois slides her purse from her shoulder and places it on the chair beside her, eyeing me as she pulls out an envelope. "What did Bruce do?" I find myself asking, watching as she places the envelope on the table and slides it in front of me.
"I honestly don't know," she confesses. "But he helped me with that story about Lexcorp earlier this month, so I owed him a favor."
I nod, knowing full well that Bruce has been helping Clark with exclusive stories for years. When Lois and Clark started dating, he extended that courtesy to her as well. "How was Kansas?" I ask, attempting to make small talk as I grab the envelope from the table and peel it open.
Lois chuckles and whispers, "Interesting," before she takes another sip of her coffee, and ponders over the trip to meet Clark's mother for the first time. Having only met a few weeks earlier, Bruce and I were both excited and nervous to meet Clark's newest girlfriend. I wasn't sure how she would react to the fact that Clark still had dinner with his ex-girlfriend, nor was I sure how I would feel about seeing him move on, no matter how much of a hypocrite that made me. But after meeting Lois, I knew she would be a good friend, and after seeing the way she and Clark looked at each other, I knew they were perfect for each other.
"I'm just kidding," she says after a moment. "Martha was wonderful, and she spilled some secrets I'm sure Clark was not too fond of."
I chuckle and nod, knowing exactly what Lois speaks of. Martha and Alfred have much too much fun spilling secrets of Clark and Bruce's childhoods, and I know both Lois and I appreciate the embarrassing memories. "The tractor?" I ask, smiling when I remember the story Martha told Bruce and I the night of Clark's graduation.
Lois nods and finds it impossible to contain the laughter as she visualizes the event that occurred nearly two decades ago. She watches as I finish opening the envelope and pull out the card seeing Bruce's handwriting on the white piece of cardstock.
I knew you would need something to calm your nerves so this one's on me. A few doors down is where you'll find your next clue.
I let out a small sigh and shake my head. How elaborate did Bruce make this scavenger hunt, and why was he doing it to begin with?
"The bookstore," Lois says, when I stuff the card back into the envelope. "Ask for Ryan."
I narrow my eyes at the woman but still give her a slight nod as I push my chair back and stand. "You want me to stay?" I ask when I realize it is rude of me to leave so suddenly.
Lois shakes her head, sips on her coffee, and pulls a small laptop from her purse. "No," she answers, "I'm perfectly content here." She waves her hand around the room and I watch as she begins to sway to the soft music that has been playing inside. "Much better than a stuffy office," she says, convincing me that she is okay with me leaving to go next door.
"Okay," is all I say, as I gather the still hot coffee in my hands. "Thank you." She nods and I see her lips tug into a radiant smile. My eyebrow raises and I know she knows more than she is letting on, but I don't bother to ask. Lois is a vault that no one can crack when it comes to confidential information. It is one of the reasons she has gotten so far in her career: people are willing to help her get information knowing she won't identify anyone who doesn't wish to be made public. With a small wave of my hand, I step out of the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk, following the path until I am standing on the stoop of the small bookstore.
My hand pulls the door open and I step inside. The walls are covered in vintage posters and artwork, signed and framed, showing the years that have gone into the decor of this place. There are rows and rows of bookshelves, lined to the brim with books. Novels, comics, and magazines fill the shelves and I wonder how a place this small place can hold what looks like hundreds of books. To the right is a small counter that houses two registers, a phone, and a computer to, what I assume, account for inventory and orders. All in all, it is a quaint little place, and I mentally remind myself to come and get lost in here on another day.
From behind one of the book shelves walks a man. He carries a box full of wrapped items in his arms, humming and bobbing his head along to the soft music that plays throughout the shop's speakers. He makes it to the front of the shop, still lost in the music, and places the box on the counter, before he turns to face me. His eyes widen when he realizes he is not alone and I can tell he is not used to customers this early.
"Hello!" he exclaims. He runs a hand through his hair and stumbles as he runs up to where I stand. "How can I help you?"
"Uh," I begin, trying to focus my attention on the small name tag that is pinned to his chest. The letters are unrecognizable, having been worn out from years of use, and it does me no good in identifying whether this is the man I need to speak to. "Are you Ryan?" I ask. "I was told I needed to speak to Ryan."
His lips tug into a confused frown. "Do you have an order?"
"I think so," I say unsure as I pull the card out of the envelope and hand it to him. Under Bruce's handwritten message lies a string of numbers. I was unsure of what they were, but when the shop owner turns and begins to type on the computer, I realize it is an order number.
"Ms. Prince," he says to himself, the frown disappearing from his face. He rummages through the box and pulls out a wrapped item. "Ah ha," is all he says as he hands me the item and the card. "I hope you like this," he says with a wink.
I thank him with a nod and pluck a business card from the counter, stuffing it into my coat pocket before I walk out the door, giving him a small wave as I push the door open and step outside. The bright glare from the sun distracts me momentarily and I have to squint until my eyes adjust. Sunshine in Gotham may have been a rarity, but when it came, it brought all it's glorious light. When my eyes finally adjust I take a look at the item in my hand, smiling at the fact that Bruce went through all this trouble to give me a little adventure while he was away.
The white wrapping is accompanied by a large red ribbon, tied to a beautiful bow on top, and I momentarily hate that I'm going to ruin the beautiful wrapping. Soon, however, the curiosity to know what Bruce has planned outweighs the want to preserve the wrapping, and I rip the package open. Inside there is an older publishing of the classic Shakespearean Romeo and Juliet.
The book is old but still in fantastic shape and as I move the book in my hands, I admire the intricate filigree on the cover. I open the cover and once again I see Bruce's handwriting.
Some people are worth dying for, but you, Diana, are absolutely worth living for.
Go to where we had our first kiss.
I smile as I pull the keys from my pocket and head to where my car is parked, hoping to find the answer to all this waiting at my destination.
Gotham Academy. 13:32.
Walking through the halls of Bruce and my alma mater brings back memories, some good, some bad, and I am overcome with emotions. My years here were definitely filled with both happiness and heartache, but if there was one person who had kept me sane throughout my time at Gotham Academy, it was Bruce. He was, is, my best friend. He was always there to listen to me when my mother was being overbearing and forbade me to do anything remotely fun. He was there for me when Steve broke my heart the summer after our Freshman year, and even though we had been friends since grade school, it was in these halls that I fell in love with Bruce.
I continue to walk through the halls. On a Saturday afternoon the once busy halls are nearly empty. Only a few students linger throughout the halls, trying to avoid the weekend detention they've been assigned or getting a jump on college prep exams. I don't envy them as those were some of the most stressful times in my life. One of the students looks up, their face having been buried in one an ACT prep book, and notices me as I continue down the hall. Her eyebrow raises as she tries to place my face and I chuckle lowly; being with Bruce, I have been splashed on the cover of multiple magazines, newspapers, and tabloid pages, the latter I am none too comfortable with, however I soon learned to get over the hurtful comments.
The student offers me a small wave when she realizes who I am and I respond with a small nod and a wave of my own, before I continue down the hall, turning the corner. I see my destination a few doors ahead and I breathe a sigh of relief when I notice the door to the room is the only one open, confirming that I am at the right place.
When I first got the clue in the book, my first thought was to go to the beach. That night, as we enjoyed a bonfire with half of the class, Bruce had kissed me. At first I thought it nothing more than a joke, as I was sure there was no way Bruce Wayne would be interested in the girl he had seen crying and shoving fistfuls of chocolate into her mouth more times than I would like to admit. However, as the night went on, I realized just how much I cared for him, and we spent the night together. I was nearly halfway to the beach when I realized the bonfire was not the first time Bruce and I had kissed, and I soon changed course to go back to our high school.
Our sophomore year of high school, we were forced to study and interpret pieces from Shakespear. Bruce and I were forced to work on Romeo and Juliet for the better part of the semester, which included a visual representation of the first meeting between the star crossed lovers - a visual that included Romeo and Juliet's first kiss. It was then that Bruce and I had kissed for the first time, and even though it had been nothing more than a platonic kiss between two people playing roles, sparks had flown, starting the attraction that only grew as time went on.
The room is dark as I step inside and I fumble with the switch on the wall, cursing at my nerves. I don't know why I'm anxious, but if this goes on for much longer, I'm going to fly to Star City myself and give Bruce a piece of my mind. The lights flicker on, illuminating the room, and I step fully inside. The room is the same as it was a decade earlier, albeit there are new desks that are lined throughout the room, and a new computer on the desk in front of the whiteboard, but the nostalgia is still there.
I make my way to the large desk and take notice of the small box in the center of the desk. As I get closer I can see that next to the box lays a card with my name on it. I open the card and see another message from Bruce.
I couldn't wait until the reunion.
Laying the card down onto the desk, my hand reaches for the box. It begins to shake as I pull it back. All the pieces start to fall into place and I suddenly realize what is happening. I open the box, letting out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding, and chuckle. Inside is a giant ring pop and I can't help but think back to when I jokingly proposed to Bruce back at the end of our sophomore year.
The sound of shuffling from behind makes me jump and I turn to face the person who has joined me in the room. Bruce's smile sends butterflies down my stomach and I can't help but reciprocate with a goofy smile of my own. I can't believe he's here, having flown all the way back without telling me he was going to be coming back early, but I am grateful. Seeing him standing there, a few feet across from me, suddenly makes this all real.
"Hi," he says, taking a few steps until he is able to reach out and take my hand in his. He places a kiss on the back of my hand and gives me a smirk as he glances at the box in my other hand.
My heart beats faster when I glance into his eyes; those beautiful steely blues make my knees weak. The thumping of my heart fills my ears and I say, "It was supposed to be blue," cringing when I hear the awkward statement.
Bruce laughs and plucks the box out of my hand, placing it on a nearby desk, before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a smaller box. I let out a small gasp when I see the velvet box and although I know what is happening, I still can't believe it. "This one is," he says. He pulls his hand from mine and opens the box, displaying the ring that is inside, as he lowers himself down onto his right knee.
The ring inside the box is absolutely stunning. The white gold band is studded with blue sapphires, coloring half of the ring in a beautiful blue color that shines under the fluorescent lights in the room. The diamond in the center is a marquise cut, modest yet beautiful, and the two smaller diamonds that lay on either side of the center stone only accentuate it's charm.
"Diana," Bruce begins, forcing my attention from the ring in his hands to his face. His eyes are soft and he bites his lip nervously, trying to gather the right words to convey what he is feeling at this moment. Finally, he says, "I've loved you longer than I can remember. I've nearly lost you more times than I want to admit, but we've always found our way back to each other. I was a fool for waiting so long to tell you how I really felt, and if you'll have me, I'll spend my entire life showing you just how beautiful, how special, how wonderful you truly are."
His thumb caresses the back of my hand softly as he clears his throat, and he sends me a smile to let me know this is what he truly wants. The Bruce I knew as a kid would never have allowed himself to be vulnerable like this. He would have never let anyone break into the wall he had worked tirelessly to build. "I love you, Diana," he confesses. "Will you marry me?"
My arms are wrapped around Bruce before he can register what is happening, and he laughs as I find my voice, so clouded with raw emotion it is difficult for me to get the word out. "Yes," I whisper, trying to clear my throat as I wipe the tears from my cheek.
Bruce places a hand on my cheek, carefully caressing the skin as I repeat my answer, before his lips crash into mine. He continues to cradle my face as he kisses me once, twice, three times, each time more urgent than the last. Before we make the mistake of celebrating in one of the rooms of the high school, he pulls away, placing a kiss on my forehead before he plucks the ring from its spot in the box. He closes the small box and places it on the desk beside my ring pop and card, before he gently grabs my hand and slides the ring onto my finger.
The ring continues to shimmer under the lights and I can't help but look at it, so in awe. The ring is beautiful, balanced and adventurous, just like the relationship Bruce and I have. "I love you," I say when I finally find my voice.
Bruce nods, gives my lips another small kiss, and stands. "I love you too."
Bruce helps me up and we embrace in a strong hug. There are so many questions I have for him, like how things with Oliver went, and who else beside Lois and Charlie know about this, but for the moment I only want to revel in the bliss being here with Bruce brings. I will find out everything eventually, but for now, Bruce's arms are the only place I want to be. I love this man, I always have, and I cannot wait to finally marry my best friend.
