“Alex? Why are we at our high school?”
“I need you to come with me.”
“Come with you where?”
“Just trust me.”
I got out of my Jeep, hustled around to open the door for her. She climbed out. Taylor was wearing a simple black cocktail dress and heels and looked more stunning than I could ever remember. I wore a black sport coat with an unbuttoned white dress shirt and jeans. We were more dressed up than usual. Taylor thought it was just for the fun of going to a Broadway show. I had something more in mind. And I could feel my heart rate start picking up the closer I got to popping the life-changing question.
I held out my hand for her. “Let’s go.”
She hesitantly put her hand in mine. Then I guided her toward a gate in the fence that surrounded the small stadium. The gate was unlocked. People from the community were allowed to access the track for their own exercise throughout the week. But I doubted anyone would be out here tonight. It was late, and the stadium lights were off. I began to lead Taylor toward the bleachers.
“Are we going to make out under the bleachers like we did back in high school?” she asked me with a sideways glance.
I gave her a nervous laugh. “Not yet. Maybe later.”
Circling the bleachers, we moved out onto the rubber track. It was dark but not so dark that we couldn’t find our way forward. I saw no flashlights circling the track. It looked like we were here alone—except for a friend of mine who was standing near an electrical box, and Taylor’s parents, who I knew were hidden behind the bleachers somewhere. The thought of Joe and Carol watching this made me even more nervous. But I wanted them to be here for this moment. Taylor was their only daughter. I just hoped she didn’t throw me an unexpected curveball.
Continuing to hold hands, we began walking the track.
“You’re acting so weird, Alex,” Taylor said. “What’s going on?”
“This track is special to me.”
“Why? You didn’t even run track in school.”
“I know. But you did. And I loved watching you run.”
“That’s sweet. But I still don’t get why we’re here.”
“Because this is where I first fell in love with you six years ago.”
She turned. “What? Here?”
I could feel a lump the size of a boulder in my throat. I stopped, pointed down to the track. “This very spot right here.”
“Why this spot?”
“Don’t you remember? This is where I was when you raced past me and turned back to say, ‘Come on, slowpoke’ before winning our little contest.”
She laughed. “I really kicked your ass that day, didn’t I?”
I laughed with her. “Yes, you did.”
“You deserved it.”
“Most definitely. What I don’t deserve is you, Taylor.”
She gave me a shy smile. “Stop.”
“I mean it,” I continued. “But having said that . . .”
With shaky legs, I got down on one knee. When I did, the stadium lights suddenly flashed on all around us. My friend’s timing was perfect. Taylor looked around at all the bright lights with wide eyes and then back at me kneeling before her. She put a hand to her mouth, clearly stunned by this moment. We had, of course, casually talked about marrying one day all throughout our dating years. But I had intentionally dodged the topic this last semester of college in an effort to make this a surprise. By the look on her face, I knew I’d pulled it off. Now I just hoped that she didn’t surprise me right back.
“Taylor,” I began, my voice cracking, “I started loving you in that moment. I have loved you every moment since—imperfectly, at times, I know. And if you’ll have me, I want to keep loving you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”
I pulled out a ring I’d asked her mother to help me to custom create. I’d saved up for a modest middle diamond surrounded by several other smaller diamonds from her grandmother’s wedding ring. I knew she’d appreciate the sentimentality.
For a moment, Taylor just stood there, both hands to her mouth.
“Babe?” I said.
“Of course I’ll marry you!”
I sprang to my feet, embraced her.
Then she pulled back. “On one condition.”
I cocked my head. “I don’t have to race you again, do I?”
She smiled but then wrinkled her forehead. “I’m serious.”
“Okay. What condition?”
“No lies, ever. Okay?”