Page 94 of When the Walls Come Down
Right on the top, as I’d expected, was the very first Warren Consulting business card I’d designed for him shortly after we’d made our relationship official. The address was his old apartment and the phone was his cell, but it was his name on the bottom line and that was all that mattered. I’d ordered five hundred of those bad boys. I think we threw away at least four hundred and fifty when he changed his logo and moved into his new office across town.
But we’d kept one.
Because it was a part of our journey—together.
Setting the card aside, I lifted the broken piece of brick and turned it with my fingers. I’d already lost part of my security deposit thanks to that hole my shoe had left in the wall the day Shane and I had broken up, so when it had been time for us to turn in the keys to my apartment, I’d said screw it and took a hammer to the wall on the balcony. I just wanted one brick to take with us. A little memento. What I’d gotten was a sprained wrist and a one-inch chip off the corner. Fuck, that wall was sturdy.
It was crazy the way reminiscing made me long for the past while also making me so damn happy about how far we’d come. Along the way, Shane had been incredible about making sure we hit every single amazingly memorable step.
There were even a few steps I hadn’t known I’d needed in my life. Shane had given them to me anyway.
Things like seeing him in a pair of cowboy boots at a Garth Brooks concert. The fake lip ring I wore to the Alice in Chains cover band we saw the first time we visited Seattle together. A surprise trip to Switzerland to hang out with Reggie, Nora, and sweet little Mila. A weekend spent on the beach when he flew Melanie in for my birthday because I couldn’t get away from work long enough to go home. And the first Christmas card we sent out as a couple—where we of course wore hideous matching cardigans.
That trunk could have been filled to the brim with those memories alone, but Shane turned out to be a real overachiever in the living department. In that chest, there was a paper noise maker from our New Year’s Eve spent in Times Square, our ticket stubs from the 49er’s game—a gift from a happy Warren Consulting client—and the receipt from when we’d found a sale online to go skydiving. We both chickened out before even making it to the airfield. But damn it, we’d made drunken plans and sometimes those were the most fun of all.
Three years into our adventure together, Shane had proposed in the most awkwardly charming Shane way possible. It was a Tuesday night and we were sitting out on our back deck as we did so often, talking about our days over a beer. It was on the ground floor. No kneepads needed. Shane had been acting weird since we’d gotten home, but I’d learned not to question his quirks. He’d spit it out eventually.
“I got you a present today,” he blurted, sweat beading on his forehead.
Smiling, I looked over at him. “Oh, yeah? What is—”
The words died on my tongue as he placed a little black velvet box on the end table between us.
I had often thought about that moment, wondering how I’d feel when a diamond finally burned a hole in his pocket. We weren’t the Shane and Maggie who had just met anymore. Heath had been right. When your timelines merge, that’s the sweet spot. And as I picked up that ring box, while the man of my dreams eyed me nervously, I knew without a single shadow of a doubt that was our sweet spot.
“Don’t freak out,” he breathed, walking over to my chair and dropping into a squat in front of me.
Tears filled my eyes. “I’m not freaking out. I promise.”
“Maggie, I love you. I would—”
Unable to wait a second longer, I popped open the top and found…
An unbelievably gaudy pair of peach earrings.
“Shane!” I scolded disappointedly. “Jesus, I thought you were proposing.”
“Oh, I am absolutely proposing. I just wanted to get a feel for how you were going to react first.” He plucked the box from my hand and chucked it over his shoulder. Out of his pocket, he produced a Tic Tacs container, and inside was a gorgeous diamond solitaire. He’d said a lot of words during that proposal, but the ones I would remember most would always be, “You aren’t just the love of my life. You’re my whole life of love and the best sex I’ll ever have.”
I’d said yes immediately, diving into his arms. That night, after a million phone calls to tell our family and a few hours spent with my fiancé’s mouth on various parts of my body, I’d tucked the velvet box and the Tic Tacs container into our memory trunk. I’d also lied and told him that I’d accidentally lost one of the backs for the peach earrings and tucked them in there too. He didn’t need to know that earring backs were universal.
