We were walking along the shores of Lake Michigan, bellies full of food from one of Chicago’s best Italian restaurants, when Ben looked around, and then stopped abruptly and took my hand.
“K.?” he said, his voice unsteady. He fumbled around in his jacket pocket, and when he found the little black box, he lowered himself onto one knee.
“K.,” he repeated. He looked nervous. My heart was pounding out of my chest, and I was dangerously close to crying. “Meeting you changed my life, and if you’ll have me, I want to spend the rest of it with you. Will you marry me?”
I had known it was coming, but hadn’t realized the enormity of the emotions I’d be feeling when it did. I immediately began sobbing.
“Yes!” I said when I caught my breath. Ben stood up, and I could see that his eyes were wet as well. “Yes!” I repeated again. He grabbed me in a giant bear hug and we stood there, crying and ecstatic, for what felt like a full 10 minutes.
“This calls for champagne,” Ben said. He led me back to Cara’s car which was parked nearby, where he opened the trunk and pulled out a blanket, bottle of bubbly, and two glasses. We giddily walked back to the beach, spread out the blanket on the sand, popped the cork, and toasted.
“To you saying yes,” Ben said, raising his glass. “And making me the happiest man in the world.”
“To you asking me to marry you,” I said, clinking my glass with his. “And making me the happiest woman in the world.”
“I feel like I need to make a joke to counteract all of this sappy sweet stuff,” he said. “But I got nothin’.”
I laughed, and he continued. “You know, my original plan was blanket and champagne first, and then propose while we were sitting here, but I got too excited and jumped the gun. Was it a good proposal?”
“It was,” I said, nestling into his arm. We drank our champagne in a happy silence, half-snuggling on the blanket.
“You know, I’ve been carrying that ring around pretty much constantly since New Zealand,” he said. “I’ve almost proposed to you about 100 times.”
I was about to tell him I loved him, again, when we were interrupted.
“You can’t do that here,” a voice boomed. We looked up to see a police officer hovering over us. He didn’t look happy. “No open containers on the beach,” he continued. “Get rid of it.”
“Sorry officer,” Ben said, getting to his feet and helping me up. We hurriedly gathered up our stuff and walked to the car. The cop followed behind.
“Who’s driving?” he demanded. Ben said he was, and then the officer made him do a breathalyzer before we got in the car! He passed, of course (he only had a few sips of champagne).
“Next time I see you two with alcohol on the beach, I’m arresting you on the spot,” he said. We got in the car and drove back to Cara’s apartment.
“I’m pretty sure we’re the only people who almost got arrested right after a marriage proposal,” I pointed out on the drive.
“We’re pretty badass,” Ben said with a smile, taking my hand and kissing it.
We’re engaged! Oh yeah, and we did some sightseeing, too. Chicago’s pretty cool and I could totally live there. Also, we’re engaged! Ah!
Posted at 7:11 PM
