“Good,” I say.
“And she told me,” she says, stopping for a beat as her voice chokes up, “how she learned to use makeup to conceal it. She watched one of my videos on how to artfully conceal scars. She said it changed her life.”
My heart swells. “I’m so proud of you that you did that series.”
She nods solemnly. “Me too. It’s been one of the best things I’ve ever done at Mia and Lola.”
I admire how she’s used her past pain to help others. She’s turned her trauma around with these videos and used her hurt for good. She says it helps heal her all over again.
So do some of her partnerships too.
Like the one she established a year ago when she partnered up with the tattoo artist who designed her daisy tattoo. They have a deal now where Layla funds tattoos for any woman who’s been through trauma and wants art to cover up a scar or a wound. Layla covers all the costs for the tattoo. It’s been a beautiful project to witness. I could not be prouder of my woman.
And I could not be more ready to take all the next steps with her. After we talk a little more about the day, we head toward the softly lapping waves as the sun dips toward the horizon. I draw a deep inhale of the ocean air, feeling more certain than I ever have about anything, more ready. And so I let her take a step or two ahead of me, our hands slipping apart.
That catches her attention and she turns around, quirking up a brow in question. But I’m faster. I’m down on one knee. “I have an idea for your next how-to video,” I say, emotions welling up in my chest.
Her eyes widen. “You do?”
I reach into my pocket. “What if you do a video on…how to do wedding makeup?” I suggest, as I hold out a velvet box. “Because I would love nothing more in the entire world than to marry you. You are and always have been the absolute love of my life, and I would love if you’d do me the great honor of letting me be your husband.”
She drops down to her knees, cups my cheek, and kisses me, her tears sealing the yes that comes from her lips.
“That sounds like a great idea,” she says.
“The video?” I ask playfully.
She shakes her head. “Marrying you.”
She holds out her hand, and I slide on a gorgeous sapphire stone set in platinum, perfect for my woman in blue.
“I love it. It matches my ink,” she says quietly.
“And it’s beautiful and as resilient as you,” I say.
She offers me her mouth again. “You were so good resisting my lipstick all day. Kiss me all night, Nick.”
“I will.”
And for all the nights to come.
I kiss her in the city where we met once upon a time under a sultry summer sky.
* * *