“Where are you going?” she asked when I got to the back door.
“You’ll see.” I left.
It took her just over an hour to solve the puzzle and follow the clues they spelled out which led her to me.
“Really?” She rolled her eyes as she walked toward my table at McDonald’s. “All that for a Happy Meal?” She eyed the sack opposite me.
“It’s probably cold since you took so long.” I sipped my chocolate milk.
“The average person wouldn’t have known half of those words. You’re such a geek.” She pulled out her hamburger and apples. “No fries?” She nodded to my empty burger wrapper.
I shook my empty sack. “I’ve had two orders waiting for you.”
Another eye roll just before she took a bite of her sandwich. “I’m going to make you a puzzle that takes you to the grocery store. A list of the things we need.”
“Sounds fun.” I rested my face in my hands.
“Why are you acting so weird?”
I shrugged. “Am I?”
“Yes.” She chuckled, setting her hamburger down after three bites. That was her ritual whether she realized it or not.
Three bites of her sandwich.
Half of her apple slices.
One big sip of her juice.
And then a fishing expedition for the toy in the bottom of the sack.
She pulled out the toy and frowned. “This is an old one. How on earth did they have this to offer?” She inspected the Sponge Bob treasure chest, cracking it open to reveal a diamond ring. After several blinks she glanced up at me.
I nodded to the small group of kids who volunteered literally fifteen minutes earlier to help me. They yelled at the same time. “Will you marry the fisherman?”
Reese jumped and shot her gaze to them. Most of them fell into goofy fits of giggles with their hands covering their mouths. And the small gathering of parents at nearby tables all looked on with big grins, maybe even a few nervous grins. I mean … what if she said no?
Reese turned back to me, and I was waiting on one knee because that’s what you did when you wanted your girl to say yes more than anything.
“Are you going to say yes?” I asked after she blinked a thousand times.
Lifting one shoulder, she relinquished a grin. “I’m thinking about it.”
“Thinking is overrated.” I took the ring and placed it on her finger just before kissing her. “Say yes,” I mumbled over her lips.
She kissed me while nodding, and when the kiss ended … it was another glorious yes.
As I waited for my bride to make her way down the aisle in the church that would have made her dad proud and did please her dad’s parents, I got a little emotional for reasons that had nothing to do with the stunning woman in white.
She never asked. Not once.
I promised a million answers after that Christmas, but Reese never asked. It was like Angie no longer existed in her mind.
She never asked if I had sex with Angie in Costa Rica. I didn’t.
She never asked about my memories of Angie—our engagement, how I felt about her, or why I said yes when she proposed. And unless Angie told someone, the truth remained buried in the past.
I said yes because she was my friend. I said yes because my family adored her. I said yes because she had just lost her mother. I said yes because we were good enough together. And I said yes because I had already let the one go.
But the most revealing part of my memory returning involved the morning of the day of my accident. While the accident itself still remained a black hole in my mind, and for good reasons probably always would, I recalled the heated argument I had with Angie.