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I’m buoyed by how effortlessly Lyric fits in with my family. Watching her interact with Pops and Gram, seeing her laugh at Pops’ exaggerated tales of my youth warms my heart.
Lyric, lounging comfortably in the armchair next to me, fits right in as though she’s always belonged. She leans forward, chuckling at one of Pops’ legendary tales of his early days fishing, eyes bright with genuine affection. My heart swells watching her, knowing how seamlessly she's become part of my family.
Then Gram, with her eyes twinkling in that conspiratorial way she gets when she’s about to share something from the family vault, catches Lyric’s attention with a gleam that spells certain embarrassment for me.
“Did Josh ever tell you how he got that little scar on his forehead, dear?” Gram asks innocently, though we both know she’s up to no good.
Lyric's gaze shifts to me, curiosity piqued. "No, he hasn’t,” she replies, clearly intrigued, her eyes flicking to the faint scar just above my right eyebrow. I swallow a groan. Here it comes. “And I’ve been dying to know how it happened.”
“Gram, seriously?” I try, offering her my best ‘don’t do this to me’ look, but it’s all in vain.
“Well, he was just a wee thing, barely two,” Gram starts, waving off my silent protests like they’re inconsequential breadcrumbs. “He’d just used the big boy potty for the first time and was turning to celebrate with Pops. Only the little guy forgot to pull up his pants. When he tried to take a step, he tripped over his pants and went down hard, cracking his head on the side of the sink.” Pops snickers and grabs another cookie while Gram finishes her story. “Little Joshy,” Gram uses the embarrassing nickname, making me roll my eyes with resigned affection, “didn’t let it slow him down one bit.”
Pops snickers, clearly still amused decades later, as if the sting of fear they felt has long since healed, leaving only the fond memory of a clumsy, adventurous toddler.
“It sounds more dramatic than it actually was,” I interject, trying to dial back on Gram’s colorful version. “A couple of stitches, some tears, and I was back to running around like nothing happened.”
“But it taught him a good lesson about pulling up his drawers before celebrating,” Pops chimes in, giving me a wry smile.
“That’s a good lesson to learn,” Lyric teases, reaching over to brush back a stray lock of my hair and teasingly inspecting the scar, her fingers gentle on my skin. “A battle wound from toddlerhood is adorable.”
“That’s me, Mr. Adorable,” I mutter, feeling a familiar warmth in my cheeks. There’s no hiding anything around here, not from Gram, and certainly not from Lyric now.
We share a fantastic meal peppered with Gram's undeniable culinary mastery. Afterward, Pops asks me if I plan to do any fishing on this visit.
“Hell yes.” I glance over at Lyric. “What do you say we hit up the pond tomorrow? Florida style.”
She nods eagerly, clearly taken with the idea. “I’d love nothing more.”
“Oh, it’s on!” I say, grinning at the challenge.
That night, after we settle into the guest room, I pull Lyric close and attempt to fall asleep, but I end up tossing and turning most of the night thinking about the pond, the ring, the words, and keeping my sweet girl forever.
When morning comes, Lyric stretches next to me, and I have to fight the urge to forget my grandparents are right down the hall.
After we shower and dress, we share breakfast with Pops and Gram on the back deck before we head to the pond.
Armed with rods, tackle boxes, and the ring hidden in my pocket, we set off down the path to the small pond on the edge of the property.
“Ready to see if you can kick my ass fishing again?” I tease as I get our lines ready. When she looks away, I slide the ring from my pocket and carefully tie it to the end of the line where the hook should go.
I mentally cross my fingers, hoping she doesn’t notice the ring before she casts her line. My heart pounds away in my chest as I wait for her to reel it in.
She finally begins to reel in the line, and I take a deep breath and prepare my spiel.
When the line breaks the water, the sunlight reflects off the large diamond and catches Lyric’s attention. I hear her indrawn breath and turn to watch as she grabs the line and brings the ring up to her face. “Lyric,” I begin as my heart pounds away. “I… uh…” Where the fuck are all those goddamn words I’ve been practicing?
She takes the ring in her fingers and turns to me, curiosity etched in her features. “Go on…”
“Well,” I continue, sinking to one knee, taking the ring from her fingers with hands that feel suddenly steady. The world narrows to just us, this one act sealing so many whispered dreams. “I love you. I want all my days and nights to start and end with you for eternity. Will you marry me?”
Her eyes, already glistening, widen with joy, the pond reflecting delight and surprise. There’s a pause, time enough for my heart to bind itself irreversibly to her response.
“Yes, yes, and yes!” she cries, wrapping her soft arms around me as the word becomes perfect. I hug her curvy body close, thanking my lucky stars for bringing my sweet girl into my life.
Her answer echoes in my soul like music that’s finally found its harmony, resonating through the world that feels brand new in every conceivable way.
EPILOGUE
