I stare at her, blinking. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No! You’re both doctors! It makes perfect sense.”
“You said I can’t get cheesy. That’s cheesy as fuck.”
She sighs, tapping her lips.
“Okay, you need to get a fishing lure—” she begins, but I stop her, holding my hand up.
“We don’t fish, and if you say this catch is a keeper, I’ll never speak to you again. Think about how you would want to be proposed to.”
“Well, that’s easy. I want to go to Paris, spend the day in the spa where I get my nails done perfectly, and then he takes me to dinner, and we walk around Paris at night, discovering little cafés and watching people kiss. And then we’d end up on a bridge with a view of the Eiffel Tower, and he’d get on one knee and ask me to marry him. He would have hired a professional photographer to secretly follow us and take photos, especially of the moment. The ring will be a round cut solitaire, and I’ll cry daintily, and of course, say yes.”
I stare at her, my mouth open, not sure what to say except, “Shit. I should have planned this sooner.”
“That’s my dream proposal,” she reminds me. “This is Joy we’re talking about. She wouldn’t need or even want all of that. Hell, you could just lie in bed and say, ‘let’s get hitched’ and she’d say, ‘okay.’”
I raise my eyebrows, thinking it over. Noel rushes to add, “But do not do it that way. You still need to do something sweet that when people ask her how you proposed, she can tell the story and they’re like, ‘awww!’”
“This is a lot of fucking pressure,” I mutter, rubbing my fingers over my lips.
“I know you have to have a romantic side,” she says. “It can be simple and romantic all at the same time. What’s she doing today?”
“Working. I told her I was going to take her out to dinner tonight.”
“She’s going to be tired,” Noel guesses. “So I suggest doing it at home. Wait! I have an idea.”
“I think I’ve heard enough of your ideas.”
“No, this one is really sweet, doesn’t involve a passport, and we should be able to pull it together before she gets off of work.”
“Okay, I’m all ears.”
“Hi,” Joy says as she drops into the passenger seat with a sigh. “Sorry I was a bit late. I hope we don’t have reservations.”
“No biggie,” I reply. It actually worked out perfectly because it gave me time to finish pulling everything together for this evening.
“You look nice,” she says, taking in my dark slacks and white button-down. “Does this mean I have to dress up this evening? Because I have to be honest, I was hoping that we might be able to just stay in tonight.”
She cringes, and I smile on the inside.
“Really, you just want to stay home?” I ask.
“I know you were looking forward to going out, but I’m still not feeling fantastic, and I’m so tired. Does this make me officially old?”
“No, babe, you’re not old. You’re tired and getting over the flu. It’s totally fine if you want to stay in.”
She smiles and sighs in relief.
“You’re the best.”
She hasn’t messed anything up for me tonight. If anything, this is better.
I pull into the driveway and hurry around the car to open the door for her. Pulling her to her feet, I walk her to the door, but then I stop her.
“Wait.”
“What?” She frowns up at me.
“Let’s go in through the back door.”
“Why would we do that?”
“Because I mopped the floor in the living room,” I lie. “And I don’t know if it’s dry.”
“You mopped my hardwood?” she asks incredulously as she follows me around the house to the back door. I lead her inside and grin when I see the glow coming from the living room, but I hope she doesn’t notice it yet.
“I used the wood cleaner,” I assure her. We stop to say hi to the puppies, who are now blocked in the laundry room with plenty of toys and water. Angela roams around the house now, and checks on the pups throughout the day. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“You’re very weird tonight,” she says, but takes my offered hand and lets me lead her up the stairs. She’s moving slower than she normally does. “I sure wish my hips would stop aching.”
“I’m sorry you’ve been so sick,” I say and wonder if tonight really is the right time to propose. But when she sees what I have waiting for her in the bedroom, her face brightens into curiosity, and her hand tightens in mine.
“What’s this about?”
“I figured you had a long day,” I reply, pleased with the flameless candles lit from the bedroom into the bathroom. There’s a new robe hanging on the door, and a hot bath with her favorite bubbles already drawn for her. “Why don’t you take a bit to soak and freshen up?”
“Oh, that looks so nice,” she says, already stripping her scrubs over her head. “When I said you were the best, I meant you’re the best. As in ever.”
I chuckle and kiss her forehead. “Relax and get comfortable, and then meet me downstairs. Don’t fall asleep. I have more surprises.”
Her eyes widen. “More? Is it my birthday and I forgot?”
“No,” I say with a laugh. “Just do as you’re told.”
I kiss her softly.
“Yes, sir,” she murmurs as I leave the bathroom and hurry downstairs to get dinner in the oven and the other gifts I have for her all set up. Her house is an open concept, so keeping the stages of this process a secret isn’t easy.
Just as I’m pulling the enchiladas—one of the few dishes I know how to make well—out of the oven, I hear Joy coming down the stairs, so I hurry over to greet her and lead her to the next step in my plan.
“That was decadent,” she says with a smile. She’s changed from her new robe into some jeans and a pretty blouse, which will be perfect. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and her face, clean of makeup, is fresh and happy.
“Feeling better?”
“Much,” she says with a nod. “And hungry. You made your enchiladas.”
“I’m glad you’re hungry,” I say as I gesture for her to sit at the island while I dish up our plates. “I have something for you.”
“Aside from the food?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“Are you trying to suck up to me for something?”
“No.” I set her plate in front of her and walk around to join her. I take a bite of my food, then reach for a bag sitting on the floor by the island where she couldn’t see it. “Here, open this.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
She smiles, chewing around a bite of food, and pulls the book out of the bag, frowning in concentration as she reads the cover.
“Jace and Joy. Fifteen Years of Love,” she reads, then smiles up at me. “Did you make this?”
“I did,” I reply. I don’t ever want to relive the hours I spent today combing through old photos of the two of us for this book. “Let’s look at it.”
She cracks the cover and laughs at the photo of us from our freshman year of college.
“My God, we were young,” she whispers, brushing her fingertips over the photo. For the next hour, we eat dinner and look through the book, reliving the entirety of our relationship thus far. “Remember when we went on that trip to Disney our junior year?”
“How could I forget?” I ask, laughing. “You threw up after every single ride, but I couldn’t get you to not go on them.”
“You love the rides,” she says as if it’s as simple as that. “Of course, I rode them with you.”
“Yeah, and you were miserable.”
“It was worth it.” She frowns, her face turning almost sad. “There are fewer photos as time goes on.”
“We were both in med school and internships. Not a lot of time for photos.”