Page 77 of Ticket to You

The carriage pulls to a stop outside of the Loeb Boathouse Restaurant on the edge of the lake. Ripples in the water distort the restaurant's reflection and catch the light, blinking up at us.

As we walk to the restaurant, Ophelia grabs my hand. I hope she won’t notice how clammy my palms are.

From the outdoor table I reserved, we watch the rowboats glide through the water. Ophelia and I talk about Laine and the other news atWonderings, but I can only hold off on the surprise for so long. Once we place our orders, I have no choice but to make eye contact with her.

Ophelia must sense my anxious mood. She reaches over the table and pats my arm. “This is perfect, Adam. It’s my ideal day. Really.” Her long hair rustles in the breeze, and the skin kisses the apples of her cheeks, making her look even more ethereal than usual.

Is it normal for my heart to beat so fast?

“I wanted to bring you here to make up for the last time we were here together,” I explain, “the night we met.”

“You’re doing a lot better this time, I must say,” Ophelia jokes, flashing her perfect, contagious smile.

Breathe, I remind myself.

I pull out a red box from my tote bag. “I have something for you.” Ophelia must have suspected what the surprise was. Disappointment is clear on her face when she sees the box is too large for a ring.

“Go ahead,” I say. “Open it.”

Inside the box, on a bed of velvet, is a gold watch that I’ve noticed Ophelia gasps at every time we pass Cartier’s windows. Ophelia’s smile returns, though there’s still a heaviness to her smile.

“I want this to be a reminder that every day—every second—that I get to spend with you meanseverythingto me,” I say. “And I thought it was about time I replace the plastic one I got you.”

“Don’t hate on the strawberry watch,” Ophelia laughs, her eyes glued to the box. “Thank you, Adam. This is beautiful.”

Ophelia takes the watch in her hands, turning it over carefully. She runs her fingers over the engraving on the inside of the face.To the ends of the earth.She smiles, her eyes glassy.

My breathing quickens, and I grab the final item from my tote bag, sliding it over to her. “And just one more thing…”

Ophelia studies the old postcard. Its white border is slightly yellowed. Across the front is an illustration of the Boathouse, and a tiny red heart makes exactly where we’re sitting now. She runs her thumb over the heart, feeling its raised texture. I painted it on myself. Ophelia looks up at me quizzically.

“Flip it over,” I whisper.

The gold flecks of Ophelia’s eyes sparkle as she reads the message I wrote on the back of the postcard.

Asked Ophelia Brooks to marry me.

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