Page 47 of Drunk Girl

“I love you so much, Mom,” Ashley says, standing to hug her mom. They both lose their fight to hold back the tears as they hold on to one another.

With the tears out of the way, we all tell stories and allow the conversation to flow, along with the wine, throughout the meal.

With the tables cleared of our dinner plates, it’s finally time for me to pop the question. Everyone at the table except for Ashley knows what’s about to go down. I slipped the ring box to my dad when we got to the restaurant, so he could hold it for me until I needed it. When Ashley excused herself to the bathroom at the end of our main course, he handed it to me.

I stand, and pull her up with me.

“Ash.” I pause to clear my own throat asmyemotions hit me, and I see the tears start to pool along her lashes when I drop to one knee.

“Nick,” she gasps, covering her mouth with one hand as what I’m about to do hits her.

“Ash, from the first moment I saw you crying in a booth in my bar, to the moment I kissed you in my bathroom, to the moment we moved in together, and all the other amazing moments we’ve shared over the last few years, to our amazing life together now. You’ve brought so much into my life, and I don’t ever want that to change. Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“Yes!” she cries out, bending over to say it over and over again against my lips. I wrap my arms around her waist as I stand back up, gathering her against my body as I seal my lips over hers. I vaguely hear the cheers from our family and friends as I get lost in my new fiancée.

“Can I have my ring?” she finally asks, as we pull back from each other. It’s then I realize I never slid it on her finger in my haste to pick her up and get my mouth on her. I slide the diamond ring I picked out a few months ago onto her ring finger.

“Do you like it?” I ask, nervous she isn’t going to.

“It’s perfect,” she says, looking at it, then back up at me.

“I love you.” I bring my lips back to hers for another chaste kiss.

“Not as much as I love you,” she tells me once we break our connection.

“That’s debatable,” I say on a laugh. “We can argue that fact for the rest of our lives. How’s that sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

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