Page 131 of At First Flight
This is what summer looks like now.
The town fair lights up the skyline, all oversized bulbs and childhood wonder. It’s loud and chaotic in that beautiful, small-town way where everyone knows everyone, and no one’s ever really lost. Music drifts from the speakers above the games booths, a sugary pop tune echoing against the rustle of the midway. The scent of kettle corn, fried dough, and freshly squeezed lemonade weaves through the air like a memory you want to bottle and keep.
Lila stands a few feet ahead of me, holding two lemonades in her hands, her laugh catching in the air as Evelyn tugs her toward the carousel. Her hair’s in a ponytail, her cheeks flushed from the heat, and I swear I’ve never seen anyone look more like home.
“Daddy, watch!” Oliver calls, hurling a baseball at the tin can pyramid with surprising strength for his size. He misses the first two throws, then knocks them all over with a loud clang on the third. A small stuffed bear lands in his hands a moment later. His grin is all pride and sugar.
He runs back with a balloon in one hand and the bear in the other. “Dad! Look what I won!” It still feels surreal for the kids to call me Dad and Lila Mom, but to them, that’s what we are and I accept the title with such an honor I never knew I wanted.
I crouch down to take it. “You throw those baseballs like a champ.”
He beams. Lila hands me a lemonade, and her fingers linger on mine. There’s a moment, small, quiet, but it catches something deep inside me. The world slows for half a heartbeat.
I’m so in love with her. Madly. Entirely. Unequivocally.
We ride the Ferris wheel just before sunset. Oliver insists on going with Evelyn, and Ashvi dons her aunt honors and joins them, so Lila and I end up in the next car. The wind moves through her hair, and the whole world seems to pause as we rise above the fair.
The sky is streaked with orange and lavender, painting everything below in a warm, forgiving light. I glance over and catch her watching the horizon, one hand resting gently on the metal railing. There’s a quiet peace in her expression, the kind that only comes after the storms have passed.
“Did you ever think this would be your life?” she asks, head leaning on my shoulder.
“No,” I admit. “But I think I always hoped for it. Even when I didn’t believe I deserved it.”
She lifts her head and looks at me, eyes steady. “You deserve all of it. You always did.”
I hesitate. My heart’s hammering. The small velvet box in my pocket suddenly feels like it weighs ten pounds.
When we reach the top, I shift slightly, taking the box out of my pocket. Her brow furrows.
“Dean—”
“I’ve loved you since the first time you spoke aboutFast and the Furiouson the flight to Scotland. Since the nightyou held Evelyn while she cried. Since every skinned knee you mended and every time you stayed when it would’ve been easier to walk.”
Her eyes are wide, shimmering.
I twist, careful on the tiny metal bench, and open the box.
“I want all of it. The chaos. The quiet. The peanut butter on the couch cushions and science experiments in the bathtub. I want to write you letters when you don’t expect them and take you to any place in the world. I want you, Lila Wright. Every version. Will you marry me?”
Her hands fly to her mouth. She nods so fast, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Yes. Yes, of course.”
I slide the ring on her finger just as the Ferris wheel dips back down into the multicolored light.
The second the Ferris wheel jolts to a stop and we climb out of the gondola, Lila’s hand still tucked securely in mine, ring glinting like it belongs there, I swear my chest could split open from how hard my heart is pounding.
That was it. The moment. The question I’ve been aching to ask, and she said yes. A breathless, tearful, yes.
Lila barely has time to step down before Evelyn barrels through the crowd, pink-stained face beaming from adrenaline. Oliver follows close behind. Ashvi slows her walk behind him, observing them at a distance.
I glance at Lila just in time to see her face crack into the softest smile, one that settles deep in my bones. “We got engaged,” she says, voice hushed but certain. “Your dad asked me to marry him.”
Evelyn gasps so loudly a couple by the lemonade stand turns to look. “We’re getting married?”
I kneel to her level, pressing a hand to her tiny shoulder. “Well, technically it’s just me and Lila, baby girl. But you’re a part of it, too. Always.”
She squeals and throws herself into Lila’s arms. “Can I wear a dress?”
“You can weartwo.” Lila laughs, spinning her in a little circle. God, I love them both more than I know how to say.
