Page 19 of Cajuns. Love. Curves.

“According to my father, he’d dropped to one knee right then and there and proposed,” I tell her. “My mother says it happened a little slower. But they were engaged within the week and got married before either of them turned twenty.”

“That’s amazing. Is that the same restaurant, the one they have now?”

“Yes, it was my grandparents. Both my parents are Cajun so they both know how to cook. All three of us kids do too. It’s an important tradition to pass down.”

She smiles at me. “I make excellent avocado toast.”

“I bet you do, sugar.”

“Thanks for telling me their story. It’s very sweet and romantic.”

I shake my head. “That’s not why I told you. I wanted you to know that what I’m about to tell you comes from the right place. That I come from a long line of men who fall fast and hard and forever.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it. Then she sets the ice cream on the nightstand next to the bed. “What is it?”

“Ava, I knew the first moment I saw you that I wanted you. It only took the first conversation for me to fall stupidly in love with you. I’m done for, sugar. Put a fork in me. I’m a hundred percent, irrevocably yours. Forever.” Then I pull the trinket ring out of my pocket. “I obviously couldn’t go anywhere tonight and get you a real ring so this is just a placeholder. But I want to marry you.”

She opens her mouth and just stares at me.

“I’m doing this all wrong.” I get off the bed and get down on my knee and hold up the plastic ring with the fake crystal in it. “Please say you’ll be my wife, Ava.”

“Are you serious?” she whispers. Those vivid blue eyes of hers shimmer with unshed tears. “You love me?”

“Without a doubt. I’m wild about you. Say you love me too.”

She releases a watery laugh. “I do love you, you crazy man. We can’t get engaged after knowing each other for two days.”

“Who says? Are you over eighteen?”

“Well, yeah, I’m nearly twenty-three.”

“And I’m well over eighteen. So we’re legally old enough to make this decision. Say you’ll be my wife. I wanna put babies in your belly and I’ll take care of the kids while you run your fashion dynasty.”

She snorts. “I hardly think I’ll ever have a dynasty.”

“You could if you wanted. You can do whatever you want. I believe in you. And I know you believe in yourself. You just have to choose to stop listening to their voices. I’m sorry you had to grow up with that, but you don’t have to listen to it ever again. You can set the terms of the relationship you have with them. You have the power, sugar.”

She throws herself into my arms and I catch her. “Yes, I’ll marry you. I’ll be your wife and I’ll do all of those things. I’m tired of living scared. I want to be brave and bold. And I want to do all of those things as your wife.”

I put that tacky plastic ring on her pinkie finger because it’s for kids and it doesn’t fit any other fingers. “We’ll get a better one tomorrow. As soon as the stores open, if you want. They’ve got tons of jewelry stores in Houston.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t want to go to Houston. I want that part of my life to be over with.” Then she cups my face. “But are you sure he can’t do anything to your job?”

“It’s already been taken care of. Don’t worry about a thing.”

epilogue

The Comfortably_Curvy_Fashionista has just gone live…

Hey y’all.Well, this is me. My face at least. Y’all have been here for so long supporting my pictures and my belief that curvy women like me are beautiful. As I’ve mentioned on here before, I never use any filters or anything like that to cover my cellulite or stretch marks. What you see is me.

But I’ve also been hiding. I wasn’t raised to believe that I was beautiful. That’s part of where this page came from. I wanted a place where I could try to be my own version of pretty, away from the judgment and ridicule. And I found it here with all of you.

Today though, I’m coming completely clean and introducing myself. I’m Ava Reynolds—

“Soon to be Ava Guidry if I have anything to say about it.”

I smile at my gorgeous fiancé.

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