She stares up at me. “I was sure you were gonna propose there, for a second.”
“Disappointed?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No. I would have said yes, but…”
“It’s not us.”
She grins and kisses my jaw. “No, it’s not. I’m glad you know me well enough to know that.”
“I’m a traditional guy, when it comes right down to it.”
Her eyes light up. “So you are planning to propose, then?”
I shrug with false nonchalance. “I can neither confirm nor deny the substance of any rumors you may have heard.”
“You are! You so are!”
“Someday,” I tell her, and touch my lips to her neck, and then tug aside the scoop neck of her sundress and kiss the slope of her breast, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “Could be tomorrow, could be next year.”
“Better not be next year,” Echo breathes, “I’m too impatient for that. And we’re on the road tomorrow.”
“Somewhere in the middle, then.”
“I want to tell you something, though. I’ve been thinking about this, and you should know about it before you do propose, whenever that might be.” She has a serious tone to her voice, and she pushes my face away from where I’ve been nuzzling the sweet, lush valley of her cleavage. “Listen, Ben, please?”
I stand up straight and smile at her. “Tell me.”
“When we get married, I want to keep my last name. Not because of my father, but because of Mom. It…connects me to her.”
I wrap her in my arms and crush her close. “Echo, baby, as long as you’re mine, legally, emotionally, mentally, and physically, you can do whatever you want with your name. I love you, and I just want us to be married.”
“But you said you’re a traditional guy and traditionally, I’d take your last name, or at least hyphenate, but I—”
I touch a finger to her lips, silencing her. “You are Echo Leveaux. It’s who you are.”
“I’m yours, Ben. I want to be your wife, in every way.”
“And that’s all that matters.”
She grins up at me. “Can’t we just call that a proposal?”
I shake my head. “No way. I’ve got a plan. It doesn’t count unless I ask you the question and you say yes. That’s how it works. Plus there’s gotta be a ring involved.”
“Do you have a ring picked out?”
I have it in my pocket right now, but I don’t breathe a word about it. “Maybe. Maybe not. Now stop asking questions so you can pretend to be surprised when I do ask you.”
She lets it go, and kisses me until I’m ready to take her right there against the wall. I manage to hold back, which turns out to be a good thing, since Brayden comes to find us to tell us that there’s reservations for us in twenty minutes at a nearby restaurant, and to say that all of us—The Harris Mountain Boys, the Calloways, Oz and Kylie—had better get moving.
* * *
Three months later, and the tour is finally over. Echo and the rest of her band are all arriving home today, after three straight months on the road. I’ve been able to fly out to meet them on the road when my schedule as a graduate assistant coach at Vanderbilt allows. I’ve put in eighteen months in that position, learning the ropes, and realizing I’m even better on the sidelines than I was on the field playing.
Two weeks ago I had my first official interview with the coaching and management staff of the Tennessee Titans. This morning, I got the phone call.
I am now the youngest person in history to hold a position on the coaching staff of an NFL team. I’m an assistant offensive line coach, thanks in part to my father’s influence. He convinced them to watch me at Vanderbilt, to talk to the coaches, and they saw my potential, agreed to an interview, and were duly impressed.
So now I’ve got a master’s degree in management, and a career in coaching. And the ring that’s been burning a hole in my pocket for the last four months is about to get put to use.
We’re back, comes the text from Echo. Where are you?
I haven’t seen her in nearly a month, as I haven’t been able to make it out to see the show in a while, what with finishing my degree on such an accelerated pace. I’ve been putting in eighteen-hour days for the last year and half, powering through the master’s program as fast as possible, watching hundreds of hours of tape and attending practices and working out, plus spending time with Echo and going to as many of their local gigs as I can.
It’s all been worth it though, all part of my plan to be ready to marry the girl I love so much. I just couldn’t ask her when I had no direction in my life, or when I had no way to support her, and us. Her music career is taking off, but I wanted to have us covered so she never has to focus on anything else, no matter what happens.
Go home. I left you a note.
That sounds cryptic.
Muahahahaha. *diabolical laugh*
What are you planning?
Just go home and read the note, Echo.
Fine.
Good.
Whatever, weirdo.
I wait for her to find the note instructing her to meet me at Fannie Mae Dees Park.
I’m on the way to the park now. Why are we meeting there? I’m tired. I’ve been on the road since yesterday morning.
I don’t bother answering, because the park is only a couple blocks from her and Bray’s apartment—which is where I’m also pretty much living, at this point. I see her approach, and I see the moment when she sees the first votive candle floating in its glass dish of water. Her hand goes to her mouth, and she pauses, glancing down at the candle on the sidewalk. And then she looks up at me, waiting under the gazebo. She follows the path of floating candles, one after another, as they lead to me. I’ve arranged candles in a circle around the picnic table where we had that breakthrough conversation. The candles leading up the path are all small tea lights, but the candles circling me are all big white cylinders with thick wicks, the biggest candles I could find, a hundred of them. It’s dusk, sunlight fading to golden-pink evening, and the lights flicker in the still air.
She stops in front of me, her eyes already wet with unshed tears. And, thank you god, she’s wearing the same white dress she wore that night, although this time she has a bra on, and presumably underwear as well.
“Hi,” she says, her voice small.
“Hi.” I’m wearing a pair of khakis, and a polo shirt with the Titans logo on the left side, with my name embroidered on the right.