♥♥♥
Friday, March 2—London
“Oh, you’re home already.” I greet Jake with a kiss. “And you’re cooking?” The apartment smells of grilled meat.
Jake looks super cute in my pink ‘all about that bake’ apron. (Not that I actually bake, it was a present.)
“I’m making burgers,” he says.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask him, immediately afraid I’ve forgotten something important. I’m not the best with dates, anniversaries. Since the rise of smartphones, I manage birthdays well enough, but that’s about it.
“Oh, nothing special.” Jake comes over to take off my coat and guides me to the table. “Wine?”
“Sure.”
He pours me a glass.
“Mmm, this is good. What is it?”
“I thought you’d recognize it.”
“Should I?”
“It’s Fumé Blanc.”
“From Napa?”
“Meow.” Lucky comes brushing at my legs.
I put the wine glass back on the table and pick Lucky up. “Oh, and you had a makeover too.” He’s wearing a new red collar with a red bow tied to the top. “You look handsome.”
“Prrr, mrrr.”
“Are you sure nothing’s up?” I ask Jake.
“I’m just in the mood to celebrate. Now sit down, dinner’s ready.”
One bottle of Fumé Blanc and one delicious burger later, Jake seems to edge on nervous rather than full and pleasantly tipsy like myself.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” I ask.
Jake gets up. “Come with me.” He grabs my hands to pull me up. “I have a surprise.”
He drags me to the spare bedroom and opens the door. I walk inside. The room’s filled with floating red and pearly white party balloons.
“Jake, what’s this?”
He smiles. “Have a look around.”
I take a few tentative steps inside the room, noticing various objects dangling from most of the balloons’ ribbons. I grab one and immediately a furious blush spreads over my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands and press it against Jake’s chest to hide.
“Oh, gosh. You’ve found the Jakebox!”
“I had a tip-off.”
“I’m going to strangle that sorry excuse for a best friend. You were never supposed to find it.”
“Why not? It’s super cute. And I’ve added some things of my own.”
“You did?” I peep at him from between my fingers.
“Come on, you should own the Jakebox.” He spins me round and pushes me gently into the room.
I navigate the balloon maze and each one’s a surprise. A million pictures of us stare back at me, some from the Jakebox and others not. They range from age fifteen up to last week. I find tickets from movie nights, concerts, vacations.
On the next balloon, I recognize a sheet of crumbled paper Jake passed me in class the first year we started dating. On top, it says, “Prom?” Below are two option-squares, one says, “Yes,” and the other says, “Yes.” I marked both of them and stamped a lipstick kiss underneath.
“You were already such a charmer,” I say.
Next, I find a page from my diary.
“Oh, you didn’t read this!”
“I soooooo did.”
I keep moving through the balloons. I find some Post-its. I used to leave them on the bathroom mirror of his house before I left in the years we were living apart. “You kept these!”
“These were my lifeline. I hated being away from you so much, especially knowing it was my fault.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I know I blamed you, but I shouldn’t have.”
“But if I’d followed you to Boston…”
“You would’ve hated it. And who knows where we’d be now.” I turn around. “The important thing is that we’re here, now.” I kiss him.
“Ouch.” Jake pulls back as Lucky starts climbing on his leg to try to get to the balloons’ ribbons.
“Someone wants to play,” I say.
“He already helped enough with the setting up.” Jake drops Lucky to the floor where he stares intently at the ribbons, one paw stretched forward menacingly.
“I bet he did.”
I scratch him behind the ears and keep walking through the hidden treasures of our past. Some of the heavier items need three of four balloons to keep them afloat. Like a heart-shaped stone we picked up at the beach, or a small bag filled with seashells, and even two golden miniatures of the Little Mermaid from McDonald’s Happy Meals. And a vial filled with sand.
“Where’s this from?”
“The lake. My parents’ cabin.”
I blush.
“Remember that day?” Jake takes hold of two pictures and shows them to me.
They’re from the day we lost our virginity together. “Of course.” One is my favorite pic of him. Shirtless, he has one arm raised above his head, braced on a tree branch. He’s wearing a surfer necklace, which he wouldn’t take off for the whole summer. The other pic is of me. I’m not staring at the camera but at the lake. The sun’s shining in my hair as if I were radiating happiness and love. Which I was.
“I don’t remember this picture,” I say, looking at it.
“I had this one. It’s my favorite of you.”
“And this is my favorite of you,” I say, pointing at the other picture. “Remember that necklace I gave you? You never took it off.”
“Wait, it should be here somewhere.” Jake shuffles some balloons around and finds it.
“You should put it on.” I take it from him and tie it around his neck. He gives me that same crooked grin, and I’m so full of love, so full of life I might explode.
Toward the end of the room, I spot a postcard of a beach in Hawaii. Where we promised we’d go for our honeymoon. My heart rate accelerates.
As I reach the very end of the room, a particularly thick cluster of balloons stands out. My heart jumps into my throat as I notice they’re holding a small jewelry box. Dangling below it, there’s a sheet of paper. I snatch it. It says, “Marry me?” Below are two option-squares; one says, “Yes,” and the other says, “Yes.” I look up from the sheet of paper to find Jake has detached the tiny box and is on one knee in front of me with it open. Tears fill my eyes.
“Will you…”
His words are cut off by me barreling into his arms. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes!”
As I’m kneeling on the floor in front of him, he takes the ring, a breathtaking square sapphire with a diamond halo, out of the box and slides it on my finger. An electrical tingle sparkles where his skin touches mine and my left hand feels so light it could be made of air.
We lock eyes. “I love you. I want to spend my life with you and fill the Jakebox with so many more memories.”
I smile and cry at the same time. “I love you so much, I don’t even know how to say it.”
“Then you shouldn’t talk.” Jake kisses me and I melt in his arms. We make love on the floor with the same passion, the same frenzy, and the same love as our first time.