I see Carrie walking up, and I stand up, reaching out for a hug. "Hey, how was class?"
“Terrible,” Carrie grumps, dropping into her seat. "I'm totally screwing up this damn thing. I'm maybe going to get a B if I'm lucky and pull something out of my ass for the final."
"It happens to everyone. Don't sweat it. This hasn't been an easy semester for us."
"Yeah, well, I'm not the one without any classes starting earlier than ten four days out of five," Carrie complains, then stops. "I . . . I'm sorry, Duncan. That was uncalled-for."
I shake my head, refusing to get upset. How can I, when I have a ring in my pocket? "It's nothing, Carrie. You're right. I picked this semester to be a bit lazy. I'm going to finish my degree, but the fact is that despite my admiration of learning, my main degree was the one I just got signed to do. And you helped me with it. So yeah, I'm chilling out a bit, and no, it's not fair to you that you've been doing double-duty as my trainer and trying to keep up your own studies. You're amazing that way."
Carrie stops, and suddenly, she breaks down crying. I go to reach for her, and she pushes my hands away, wiping at her eyes. "No, no . . . it's nothing. Seriously, it's nothing. Let's just have lunch."
"Carrie, it's not nothing," I say, setting aside my water glass. "You've been disturbed ever since Draft Day, really, but it's kicked into high gear since we got back from Jacksonville. What's going on?"
"Just . . . hormonal," Carrie says before wiping at her eyes. "I'm okay. I'm afraid, Duncan. I still have a year of school, and you're going to be in Jacksonville . . ."
"We can handle that," I urge her, reaching across and taking a hand. “We talked about this with the team, remember? You can do your internship with their staff, and then finish out your degree in the offseason. That's not so bad, is it?"
"I know, but there are so many challenges."
"Carrie," I interrupt her, fear taking over. “Don't say that you're having second thoughts . . . about us?"
Carrie stops, her mouth dropping open. "You . . . you think that I'm . . . Duncan, I'm not having second thoughts at all!"
"Then, what is it? Because I'm worried, Carrie. You've been pensive, moody, like you said, hormonal—"
"Duncan, I'm pregnant!"
Every person in the restaurant stops at Carrie's yell, and heads turn on a swivel to look in our direction. I'm left in a daze again, blinking stupidly at Carrie as it all falls into place. The nervousness, the mood swings, the sudden desire for insane amounts of ramen . . . all of it. "You're pregnant? You're pregnant."
"Please, Duncan, I'm not trying to gold dig on you," Carrie starts, before I cut her off with a hug and a kiss. She resists me at first, before she realizes that I'm happy, and she melts into my arms, her lips softening and her hands coming to wrap around my neck while I lift her carefully into the air. When I set her down, I can see that she's crying. "You're not upset?"
I laugh and reach into my pocket, pulling out the box inside. "How about this for an answer?"
I get down on one knee, and I can hear the intake of breath from at least half a dozen people around us, and someone on the phone saying, "Oh my God, he just got down. I think he's going to propose."
"Duncan, how . . . why . . ." Carrie starts, but I cut her off by opening the box.
"Carrie Mittel, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"
Carrie nods, fresh tears streaming down her face, and I take her hand, sliding the platinum and diamond ring onto her finger. When it's done, the whole restaurant breaks into applause, along with a few cheers as well. Carrie looks at the ring one more time, still trying to find her voice, when someone interjects. "Hey, my sister-in-law wants to know if you say yes! Make it official!"
"Yes . . . yes!" Carrie cries out, finding her voice, smothering my face in kisses. "Oh God, yes!"
We hold each other, just letting our fears go, when Carrie chuckles. "This is a hell of a way to start lunch."
"Let's get some, shall we? Then we can get to class afterward."
Carrie nods and sits down, looking at her ring finger where her new ring sparkles. "I was so stupid, worrying about you. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. No regrets, Carrie. I've racked my head for days looking for the perfect moment to ask, when all the time, I should have just done it. I didn't have the ring then, but I would have asked you on Draft Day if I had the guts." I pick up the menu, then set it down, looking across the table at her. "So you've known a while?"
"Since Draft Day," Carrie says, looking down, ashamed. "I . . . I should have told you earlier."