I’d only waiteda lifetime for this weekend.
Yet here I was, cutting it close for boarding a ridiculously small plane to San Francisco for TechieCon, and all I could think about was how much I’d miss my wife.
Olivia stood beside me in the lobby of the regional airport Friday morning, and I pulled her to me, wrapping my arms around her fancy clothes, not caring a whit that I was surely wrinkling them. “Come with me to California.”
“Lachlan, go find your gate before they leave you.”
We’d gotten stalled on the interstate thanks to a wreck, leaving us minutes to spare. “Then we could drive. Together. I’ll let you have control of the music for at least twenty percent of the time, and I’ll fill the long, boring hours with detailed descriptions of my favorite moments in gaming.”
Olivia laughed, a sound I loved more than theMars Warsmovie soundtrack I’d just heard last week. “I can’t,” she said. “I need to stay close to home for work.” She rested her cheek against my sweater, one of those fussy wool things Paolo had selected. “But I’ll pick you up when you get back.”
“Then we sit down and talk. I have some things I want you to hear.”
“What sorts of things?” Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, but I ignored it.
“Life decision things.” Then before Olivia could utter another question, I leaned down and kissed her, wanting to leave her with another reminder of where my intentions clearly were now.
My lips gently teased hers, a whisper of touch and a preview of what we’d build on later. As she sighed into the kiss, I smiled, wishing we could stay there in that spot forever. Because the old anxiety whorled through my thoughts, telling me that what I had with Olivia was merely a mirage of what I wanted. But love could be more than an evaporating mist in my life.
The remnants of fear tried to squeeze between us, and I fought to shut out the foreboding feelings. I deserved love and a family. Those things that had been so easy for everyone else and so elusive for me. It was my turn. I wanted it all—Olivia, a thriving company, and, yes, maybe a little bit of payback.
I’d waited long enough. I just needed to talk to her and make sure we were on the same page, that she wanted to continue our relationship, and toss out any ideas of a divorce. But that would have to wait until I returned.
“You need to go.” Olivia’s hands held my face as she opened her lips against mine one more time. “The security lines here can be brutal.”
I sighed and breathed her in, wanting to record this moment, her scent, and the feel of her in my arms. “Don’t let Celeste harass you while I’m gone.”
“Harassment is my husband’s job,” she said.
“He sounds terrible.” My brain worked overtime analyzing her smile. Was it genuine? Strained?
“That’s what I tell him.”
“Wait, I almost forgot.” As fight update announcements blared overhead, I dug into the pocket of my bag and pulled out a small box.
“What’s this?” Olivia asked.
The lid opened with a dramatic click, and I held the box up for her inspection. Nestled in velvet, a shiny ring blinked in greeting. Two rows of rubies encircled a bold cushion-cut diamond, all set in an engraved band of floral and scrollwork.
“Is…is that for me?” she asked, her eyes wide on mine.
I didn’t expect to feel self-conscious, but if this moment were a game sequence, it would be a frozen screen where every pixel was afraid to move. “Uh, yeah,” I said. “It’s occurred to me more than once that you never got an engagement ring. I finally did something about it.” Olivia’s face registered something akin to shock, but was that good shock? A bad, get-this-ring-out-of-my-face shock? “We’ve been photographed so much, I thought you needed to wear more than your band from the Vegas chapel, that according to my credit card statement, cost me a whopping ninety-nine dollars.”
She held her left hand to her chest. “I kind of love our cheap bands.”
“So you don’t want this?”This ring? My heart? My pride and shredded confidence?
Olivia stared at the jewelry box, and one TSA agent and two families passed by before she finally spoke. “Of course I want it. Lachlan, it’s beautiful.”
She wanted the ring. I would not suffer utter and complete humiliation downwind of an Auntie Anne’s pretzel shop. “I’m glad.”
In my head, I’d practiced this a few times, and I’d said some really profound and moving sentiments. But now I could only watch Olivia, scanning her face and body language for all possible signals. Something was off; I was certain.
“Allow me.” I plucked the ring from the box, then reached for Olivia’s hand. “It matches very nicely with the gold-plated band blessed by Celine Dion.” Then I slipped it over her finger, briefly bringing her hand to my lips for a quick kiss. “I guess we’re going steady now.” She said nothing, and the doubts began to stack in my head. “I wanted you to have it for the movie premiere. Red Carpet and all that.”
Olivia stared at the ring glinting beneath the harsh airport lights. “Thank you.”
I felt a scene change—as if we transitioned to a different level when I slipped that ring on Olivia’s finger. Yes, I could be paranoid about anything that had to do with a relationship, but I swear her posture straightened, her eyes lost a fraction of warmth, and a hint of that old reserve returned.
