Her father was the only obstacle that stood in my way. I thought that someday I’d ask for a girl’s hand in marriage, but I knew with Bridget, it would be pointless. Her father would never give me the green light; he’d never welcome me with open arms. I knew that Bridget loved me and told me time and time again that nothing her dad said could ever change that fact. I’d skip asking him permission and ask the one person that mattered in the actual decision, Bridget.
I couldn’t make the proposal simple; most girls would be happy with simple, but Bridget would require a grand display of affection and commitment. Her family and friends would judge me based not only on the way I proposed but also by the ring I buy her. I spent weeks looking at diamonds, learning the ins and outs. I learned about the three C’s, cut, clarity, and color. I knew as a salesman that the price on the item wasn’t final, and I’d be able to get her a decent ring based on the amount of money I had to spend.
I found a ring that would suit her, please her, and not make her embarrassed to show her friends and family. I would spend over four months’ worth of pay on the clear little stone, and I wanted it to be drop dead gorgeous, just like Bridget. The one point five carat princess cut diamond with only slight imperfections would be stunning on her long thin fingers. I didn’t opt for the traditional yellow gold, but had it placed in a white gold band. I wanted the diamond to be the show stopper, nothing else to decorate or draw the eye away from the main attraction.
I spent more time thinking of how to propose than I did on picking out the ring she would wear during her lifetime. Every time I thought of the perfect setting, I always talked myself out of it, deciding it wasn’t good enough. The only thing that kept popping in my head was our upcoming trip to New York City. We’d be there for New Year’s Eve to watch the ball drop in Times Square. We were leaving tomorrow, New Year’s Eve morning, and I couldn’t wait any longer to ask her. I didn’t want to waste another moment as just boyfriend and girlfriend; I wanted to call her my fiancé.
I barely slept; my mind tormented by the thought of flying and proposing to Bridget without f**king it up. You only get engaged once and can’t ever take that moment back. I crawled out of bed as soon as the sun peeked over the horizon. Our flight was early, and I dragged our bags outside and threw them in the trunk of her car. I had the little black box in my coat pocket, not wanting to take the chance of my bag getting lost with the precious cargo inside. I waited on the sofa for Bridget to finish making herself perfect. She was naturally beautiful and didn’t need to put on as much make-up as she did. I love her for everything she is and not her false beauty. Time ticked away slowly; my palms were sweaty, and I felt flush.
“Bridget, come on babe, we’re going to miss our flight,” I yelled from the living room.
“One more second,” she yelled back.
I walked around making sure all the windows were locked, and everything was off in the house. Bridget finally made an appearance looking as beautiful as she always does. Her hair was fluffed just perfectly. She wore a long cream-colored clingy sweater and tight blue jeans with boots. “You look beautiful, Bridget.”
She approached me with a lop-sided grin and stood on her tippy toes, reaching up to kiss my lips, “I love you, Kayden.” My heart skipped a beat with her words.
New York City greeted us with its crowds, noise, and a party atmosphere. The taxi driver had a hard time navigating the streets with the sea of people and street closures for tonight’s festivities. We checked in and threw our bags down, both falling on the bed in exhaustion. “Just five minutes,” she said as I stroked her hair. I closed my eyes relishing the feel of her warm body pressed up against mine, not looking forward to the hours in the freezing New York winter air.
Fingers were running through my hair and woke me from my dream of a beach with rolling waves and Bridget at my side. “Wake up, sleepyhead. We have to get ready and head to Times Square. Come on, baby.” Her words made my heart jump and start beating at a feverish pace remembering where I am and what the night held for us both. “I love your hair,” she said as she played with my hair that had fallen across my forehead.
“Let’s go, beautiful.” I crawled off the bed, grabbed a beer from the mini-bar and waited for Bridget to winterize herself.
We stopped at a liquor store and grabbed a bottle of Champagne to crack open at midnight to celebrate the New Year and our engagement. I held Bridget’s hand tight as we walked through the endless mass of people gathered in the streets, drinking and celebrating hours before the ball dropped. At times, I only had a grasp of her fingertips, but I made sure never to lose her. I’d never f**king find her in this mess.
“Stop here, Kayden.” She yanked on my hand, “I want to be able to see the ball and the screens with the Dick Clark performances. I don’t want to go any farther.”
I held Bridget by the waist watching the countdown clock tick away. With every hour and minute, my pulse grew faster, and my palms more sweaty. The cold had no effect on me at this point; I was burning up inside my winter coat and hat. My mouth grew dry, and I felt like I was swallowing sand paper.
“Oh my God! I can’t believe we’re here on New Year’s Eve.” She almost jumped up and down in my arms filled with excitement.
“There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you, love.”
“One minute, get ready. Hurry, open the champagne.” I quickly worked the contraption that held in the cork and pointed the bottle away from Bridget, aiming it high in the air. Other people around us were readying their drinks and watching the clock with urgency. “Thirty seconds.”