Coming up to the fire pit, Blake nudged me with his elbow. “You sure about that?”
Now it was my turn to hold back a smile. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Standing in front of the pile of timber, Blake released my arm.
“Okay, so you still remember how to start a fire, right?”
I elbowed him back and he laughed, taking out a lighter that he flicked on.
“Just kidding,” he said, and he lit the timber.
It caught easily, and before long we had a full fire raging before us. There were no logs here, so Blake sat down cross-legged on the grass, and I sat beside him.
First it was “The General,” and this time I knew why the song was familiar. It was familiar because it was the song that he’d been playing when I’d fallen in love with Blake. This time I could sing along a bit, and I did.
At the end, the fire flickered gladly, and soon it was time for the next song, which we howled out wildly, the quiet night air throwing our yells back at us long after the song was finished.
I flopped onto him, and he wrapped his arms around me, running his hands through my hair the way I loved.
At some point, he stopped, extricated himself, and said, “Claire?”
I opened my eyes, and he was crouched in front of me on one knee.
Time froze. The owls hooted in anticipation; the wind ruffled Blake’s hair merrily. He was looking at me liked he’d never looked at me before, out of adoring eyes through a sheen of tears.
When he spoke, his voice was an emotional hush.
“Claire, the first day I met you was the day my life began. Before I met you I was asleep, half-living. I was trapped and didn’t even know it. I never thought I’d meet someone I could respect, get along with, trust like you. I didn’t think a woman like you existed.”
“Blake,” I murmured, but he held up his hand.
“You make me a better man, Claire. You are the sun and the moon, my best friend and the sexiest woman I know. You are my everything, and I know, as long as I’m breathing, that you always will be.”
As my heart exploded with joy, he took a little navy box out of his pocket and opened it.
“Claire, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
“Blake!” I exclaimed.
“I told Lila a few days ago, had her come down, and then I asked your parents at lunch. I’ve been so nervous; that’s why I’ve seemed off the past few days.”
“Oh, Blake,” I murmured again.
I kissed him and then pulled back, staring into his adoring, beautiful eyes. Time froze again, and I closed my eyes.
In the swirl of joy, surprise, and gratitude, there was something else too: another man on one knee holding up highway traffic, another girl saying yes before she even thought about her answer for a second. What had I told myself just a few months ago about rushing things?
I opened my eyes. I knew what I had to do.
“Blake,” I said, “you’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. But I wouldn’t be being fair to me or you if I accepted your proposal without taking a minute to think about it. I’ll go for a quick walk now, if that’s all right with you.”
Blake was clearly disappointed, but he nodded and squeezed my hand.
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
I smiled at him, kissed his cheek, and then walked off into the night.
It was too dark to see much; I almost tripped on a tree root. I stopped by an oak tree and leaned on it. Was this how I was going into love again? Making the same mistakes in love as last time—moving too fast, too recklessly? I’d only known Blake a few months after all.
I felt at my face, at the traces of the smile still there.
It was not only time that made you know a person, though. In these past few months, Blake and I had shared everything, our hopes and dreams, our fears. Yes, I might have known Blake for only a few months, but I really did know him.
I turned in the direction of the cabin, and just as I was about to set out, an insidious voice said, You thought you really knew Angelo too.
I sat down and closed my eyes. Inhaled and then exhaled. Asked myself: Should I marry Blake?
When I opened my eyes, the answer wasn’t there, although something else wasn’t either: that swirling pit of foreboding in my gut that had been there as Angelo had popped the question and I had squealed “yes!” that had been there after the whole car ride. That had turned into chronic indigestion that had gone on for weeks.
No, marrying Blake didn’t feel wrong like marrying Angelo had. It felt right.
I rose. My feet started taking me back toward the cabin; they seemed to think I had made my decision.