“My lips get really dry in the winter, you know?” I nod, because I do know that. I’m unsure why I’m being told this story, but am willing to see where he is going with it. The way he’s talking, I already feel as though I’ve missed a few pertinent sentences. “So, I checked the bathroom thinking maybe we had some spares. And then I couldn’t find any, and so I thoughtmaybe Henri has one in his drawer.”
Atlas stops talking, and I stop breathing. Atlas and I share everything, but by some mutual, unspoken agreement, our bedside tables are strictly our own. It is the only place in our house I felt comfortable that Atlas wouldn’t stumble upon the engagement ring I’d bought.
“I see,” I murmur, waiting him out in the hope that maybe he is telling me this for a different reason. Maybe Atlas, who is allergic to romance, did not recognize a ring box when he saw it. He sits up, tucking a leg underneath himself and looking at me with a frown on his face.
“I love you,” he says in a stern, almost forceful voice. “I know I don’t say it. Ishould, but it’s not easy for me.”
“I know that. I do not need you to say it.”
“Except, apparently you do, because you have a ring and a receipt datedtwo years ago,” he says, voice thin and anxious. “Why haven’t you asked?”
“Because I did not know what you would say,” I tell himtruthfully. He breathes in sharply, eyes widening. My hand, which had gotten dislodged when he moved, is resting on his shoulder. I squeeze it, gently. “Atlas. I would have bought that ring and asked you to marry me the day we graduated had I thought you might say yes. I have always been sure of you—of us.”
“You thought I’d say no.”
“I thought that I would give you time,” I correct gently. “Just because I knew you were it for me, does not mean that you were at the same place. I did not want to give you an impossible choice.”
He stares at me for a moment, before repeating his earlier words: “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” I smile at him. I didn’t need to hear it, but it feels nice all the same. “Now, about?—"
“If someone were to ask me something—anything—I’d probably say yes,” he interrupts. “I’m feeling pretty agreeable.”
“Oh? I suppose there is a first time for everything.” Atlas’ lips twitch. I touch a finger to his cheek, smoothing the pad over his skin. “Atlas.”
“Yeah?”
“You are the world to me. You are a blessing, and a gift. I am the happiest man alive with you beside me. Atlas—my love, my Bärchen—would you marry me?”
“Yes,” he whispers. “Of course I will. You’re it for me, too. You’ve always been it for me, even when I was too dumb to see it.”
“Atlas, you have been holding out on me. That sounded like a wedding vow. I thought I was the romantic one?”
He laughs, hooking an arm around my neck and pulling me in for a kiss. It would have been nice to skate with Maxtonight. To play one more game, the way I long to do when I’m sitting in the broadcasting booth and missing the past. To score a goal and hear the crowd cheer. But even that dream pales in comparison to this. I do not need anything else, so long as I can have my Atlas.
