Because I haven’t proposed to Nikki yet, even though I was ready to do it on New Year’s Eve at the Barlowe.
But Nikki has been wrapped up in Amelia’s wedding planning process, and I knew she wouldn’t want our engagement to overshadow her best friend’s wedding. So for months, I’ve held on to the engagement ring I bought the week after her disastrous dinner with Justin and his family. Seeing another man get down on one knee for Nikki tested my sense of morality, but I kept it together.
And now, it’s been a week since Evan and Amelia’s wedding. They’re honeymooning somewhere in Europe while I look at my future bride, who’s standing in the kitchen of our newly remodeled brownstone home.
We moved in immediately after Valentine’s Day but have been slowly putting our touches on the place.
The brewery,Caveman Cerveceria, opens up next month. Nikki tossed the name around as a joke, but I immediately knew I would be keeping it. The name went well with our no-frills vibe and rustic décor. We’ll be offering Dominican tapas and over fifty beers on draft. And at the moment, we are working on two IPAs, a cider, and a pilsner. My hope is to get the formula right so we can distribute to liquor stores nationally.
A surprising side effect of quitting my job and creating my own business was the reparation that happened to my relationship with my dad. After I quit the force, we had a four-hour conversation at his apartment. With the help of my therapist, I was able to successfully convey the emotions that I have been struggling with for the past fifteen years. My father sat back and absorbed it like a sponge. I knew my father never really believed in therapy, so color me surprised when he revealed that Mom had roped him into getting mental health help before and after she died too.
Two Dominican men, sitting down and speaking about their traumas and emotions, was a sight I’d never thought I’d live to see. We laughed, we cried, and we drank… a lot. But by the end of the night, I walked away with a better relationship with my father. And for the hundredth time, I send a silent thank-you to my angel up above, my mother, for always knowing what she’s doing and setting us on the right path.
Yet now, as I stare at my other angel, mi corazón, I send up a quiet prayer that I don’t mess this up and that Nikki will say yes to our forever.
Nikki
I’m sorting out takeout containers on our kitchen island as Tony continues to look at me funny.
He’s been in one of his hyper moods all day. I should have known that today would be an eventful day when I woke up to Tony dancing to Tina Turner’s “The Best” in nothing but black boxer briefs.
The biggest surprise of being with Tony is how much he loves music. All music. I never imagined that moving in with Tony would entail daily dance parties in my pajamas. From rap to reggaeton to merengue to salsa.
Home used to be a place where I went to rest after work. Now it’s a place where I live my life between handling my responsibilities.
We already had a sex marathon this morning, so if he’s thinking of going at it for another round, he’s sorely mistaken. Sorely being the keyword. After he treated me to my very own version of a DominicanMagic Mikeperformance, I pounced on him. But he’s still giving me this look from across the room like he’s up to no good.
He saunters his way toward me, wearing a black Henley stretched across his expansive chest and gray sweatpants. He leans against the kitchen counter as I continue to unload the absurd amount of Italian food Tony ordered.
“Are you going to decant the wine, or are you going to continue to ogle me?” I ask while keeping my focus on the stacks of containers.
“I need you to promise me something,” Tony says tenderly.
My head snaps up at his tone. “What?”
His right hand cups my cheek. “I need you to promise me that we’ll always be like this.”
“Like what?”
“Together. Happy. Content doing the simplest of things, like eating takeout.”
“Where’s all this coming from, love?”
His thumb caresses my cheek. “I’m not naïve. I know we’ll face hardships down the road. I know that we’ll go through seasons of life that’ll test us, that’ll make us question everything around us. But promise me that we’ll never question the love we have for one another.” I open my mouth to speak, but he continues. “Promise me that we’ll try for kids in the future. It’s not a guarantee that we’ll get pregnant. I know that it’s not a given, but promise me that we’ll try for a family, in whatever form that may look like, and I’ll promise to change every dirty diaper and handle every morning drop-off. Promise me that you’ll put up with my crazy work hours, and I promise to prioritize our date nights. Promise me that you’ll taste test my beers, even when they suck, and I promise to watch all your Bravo shows with you. Promise me that you’ll always stand by my side, and I’ll promise to spend every day from now until my dying breath making sure you never doubt the love I feel for you. Can you promise me that, corazón?” He exhales deeply.
My sweet man.
I don’t know how I got so lucky. To be loved by a man like him. To be given these affirmations of love on a regular Tuesday night over takeout containers.
I smile softly and say, “I pinky promise.” I lift my left hand with my pinky extended.
Tony’s face breaks out into the biggest grin I’ve ever seen.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Tony lifts his left hand, pinky extended, only for me to notice that he has a freshly tattooedNon his ring finger.
He must have removed his right hand from my face, because in the same instant, he slips a diamond ring on my extended pinky finger.
