Page 61 of Demo
“Emily, I have memories with you. Good and bad. Most of them are good. I mean, all of them are good! Well except that time we camped in the Adirondacks, and I still maintain that outhouse kerfuffle was not my fault!” Silence fell around the table as we all stared at Bram, sweating and mumbling like an idiot.
“I want to have more times like that. Well, maybe not the camping. I think we’ve established we are hotel people. I kind of like actual plumbing when I have to crap. But we could do cruises or something.”
I leaned back over to Lizzie, who had her hands over her mouth, and it dawned on me what was happening. “Is he?”
“Yes!” she hissed, a tear falling from her eye. “Help him!” She looked at me.
I leaned back with brows raised, jabbing a finger at my own chest in question.
Now leaning my way, Lizzie whispered through the side of her mouth. “He just used the word ‘crap’ in a marriage proposal. He’s drowning over there. You’re his brother, throw him a life preserver!”
I looked back over at Bram, and Emily, who was also covering her face with her hands, realizing what was happening and waiting for Bram to self-implode before he actually got around to the question. He took both her hands in one of his, then wiped his brow with the other. “I, uh—I love you! I mean, you know that, right? I uh … damn, Mom is the oven still on? I’m sweating like a whore in church!”
Lizzie smacked her forehead. Em stayed frozen. Mom giggled. Dad didn’t know what the hell was going on.
Lifting my glass of wine, I cleared my throat. “Hey, brother, are you trying to gain me a sister? Cuz, I’ve never had one before. But I think, if I were ever to get one, Emily here would be my first choice.”
“Yes!” He let out a breath, releasing one of Emily’s hands and pointing at me. “I am.”
Cupping Emily’s face in his hands and gently turning her toward him so he had all her attention, he finally spit out: “Emily. I’ve loved you for so long I can’t remember a time when I didn’t. And I will love you forever, and I want to marry you, make more memories with you, and sit here at this table for more crowded meals and embarrassing stories and, well, I’m kind of running out but, you get my drift, right?”
Emily nodded repeatedly as Bram dug into his pocket and pulled out a ring. From where I sat, it looked simple, but elegant. He did good.
Taking her trembling hand in his shaky grip, he finally—finally—asked, “Emily, will you marry me?”
“Yes!” she shrieked, as she flung her arms around his neck, practically knocking him over, and wept. He did too.
Mom was a blubbering mess. Dad was speechless. And looking over, I saw tears streaming down Lizzie’s face. I raised my brows at her. Wiping them with the back of her hand, she stammered, “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so emotional.”
Dad finally joined the party, bounding up from the table. “Well, it’s about damn time, son!” Arms raised, he came around the table, as everyone started to stand. “Emily,” he cheered as he crushed her in her arms. “You make my son so happy, and I’m so glad I can finally call you my daughter.”
Hugs, tears, back slaps and sheer joy were passed around for a long time before we all finally settled back into our chairs, and Mom brought out the desserts.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” I lashed out at Bram across the table. “How could you not tell me?”
“Please. I’ve been a fucking wreck since I bought that damn ring. I could barely get the nerve to ask Emily, let alone talk about it.” He chugged some more wine.
“Lemme see it!” Lizzie addressed Emily, reaching out and taking her left hand, and turning it so the ring glistened in the light. “Oh my God! It’s gorgeous!”
“I can’t believe it!” Emily said, her right palm on her face. “Am I blushing?”
“No, girl, you are glowing!”
The two hugged again as Mom made her way to the table with a pumpkin pie, and Lizzie’s apple pie. “OK, who wants what?” Mom asked as she started cutting and serving.
“I want a big slice of each,” Dad answered.
“Same here,” said Bram.
“Wanna share ours?” Lizzie asked me.
“Sounds good,” I said, leaning over and grabbing a dish Mom had plated with a slice of each pie. “I’m gonna try yours first,” I said, digging into the apple and making an over-the-top “mmmm” sound as I chewed.
“Oh, stop!” Lizzie shoved my shoulder and wrinkled her nose at me. “Is it that bad?”
“It’s fucking delicious!” Bram said around a mouthful. Half of his slice was already gone.
“Bram, language!” Mom chided, then added, “Really, Lizzie, it’s fantastic.”
