Secret Triplets(46)

 

That’s when it occurred to me that this was just like our first two times together, our first day—the outdoor swim—and our reunion  —the body painting. Could Brock have remembered that this day was special?

 

But when I glanced at him again, he was already picking up Ian and tucking him in the stroller, and the look in his eyes was gone. Maybe I had imagined it.

 

We packed the three babies into their stroller, and Brock wheeled it in the direction of some trees. Once surrounded by them, we walked for a few more minutes in quiet, contemplative silence before we reached the pond. It was a little oblong thing, a border of rocks on one side and some speckles of lily pads in the middle. It was perfect. A sliver of light shone through the trees, making everything glisten.

 

“Wow,” Brock and I said in unison, laughing and then kissing.

 

We stripped the babies down, took off our own clothes, and went in. Brock held the two girls, while I held our son. We used lily pads to scrub off the little specks of paint that didn’t seem to want to leave. The babies laughed at it all, splashing each other.

 

Ian broke into tears at one overly ambitious splash from his sister, so I returned to shore and soothed him, softly bouncing him in my arms and feeding him some cereal. This calmed him enough that he fell asleep. Soon Brock brought our daughters ashore and put them in the stroller since they too had fallen sound asleep. Now it was just Brock, me, and the forest.

 

We returned to the pond, kissed, and took delight in the water, the lily pads, and the crystal-clear forest air. Brock took my face in his hands.

 

“This is the best day,” I said.

 

“This is the best day of my life,” he said.

 

And we kissed some more. For a minute, the world stopped and I lost myself in the wonderful man in front of me.

 

The babies waking up and crying brought us back, reminding us of their needs.

 

“Let’s go back to the daylily field and have our picnic,” Brock said, and I agreed.

 

We made our way back through the forest, and once we were there, Brock laid down the rainbow blanket my mom had knitted for us, while I swept our children out of their seats. By the time I placed them on the blanket in front of us, they were more than ready for the box of cereal I had brought. Airplaning them their cereal on a plastic spoon was more for Brock’s and my enjoyment than theirs. And yet, oh how we laughed! With each swoop of the spoon and the eager snapping of their little mouths, we all whooped with delight, their fat cheeks veritably filled with it. Brock even swooped some cereal to me for fun before he began cutting the baguette and pairing each generous piece with an equally generous chunk of cheese.

 

“Are you trying to fatten me up?” I joked as I help up an especially humongous one.

 

Brock responded by kissing my cheek and whispering, “Just wait till you see the dessert.”

 

I studied his face.

 

“Dessert? I don’t remember packing any.”

 

Brock turned to the kids and winked.

 

“Good,” he said.

 

I sighed.

 

“Brock…”

 

He shook his head and grinned again.

 

“Nope. You have to finish your meal before you get dessert.”

 

So I did, holding myself back from devouring the full baguette, as delicious as it was.

 

As the kids flopped back onto the blanket, tired and dopey from all the food, I shot Brock a significant look.

 

“Well, Mr. Bossy, I finished my dinner.”

 

Brock shrugged.

 

“Think I dropped your gift on the way.”

 

I tossed a bit of cereal at him, which he snatched up in his mouth like a dog.

 

“Brock!”

 

“Okay, okay. Maybe it’s in the grass over there.”

 

Grudgingly, I got up and walked in the direction he had tossed his hand.

 

Nestled among some daylilies, I found the biggest chocolate chip cookie I had ever seen, in an even bigger transparent box on red and white striped paper, just like the bag I’d brought to his cabin a year ago.

 

Laughing, I picked it up.

 

“Seriously?” I asked him as I returned.

 

To which his still-glittering smile said, “Clearly you haven’t looked on the back yet.”

 

I flipped the big thing over and gasped.

 

Taped there was a jewelry box, the kind rings are stored in.

 

“Brock, you don’t mean…”

 

He reached past me, yanked the box free from the cookie, and got down on one knee.

 

“Yes, Alex, I do mean to propose to you. The first minute I saw you, the first night I spent with you, I knew there was something special about you. This year has just proven it to me all the more. I can’t remember ever being happier, ever feeling luckier. You support me, you hold me up, and you make me laugh. You’re gorgeous and astounding, and, if I’m going to be honest, Alex, I wanted to ask you this question a week after we moved in together, only I was afraid you’d say no. Now please, babe, will you make me even happier and be my wife?”