Then he reached into his jacket.
My heart stopped.
“Adrian.”
“I know.”
“You know what?”
“That your face currently suggests you might escape through a window.”
“There are several windows.”
“None of them open.”
“That sounds like a fire-code issue.”
“Julia.”
His smile steadied me.
He did not kneel.
Not yet.
Instead he held a small velvet box in his hand.
“I spent most of my life assuming certainty came first.”
I looked at him.
“That I would know exactly what I was doing, make the correct decision, and then act.”
“That sounds like you.”
“I’ve learned something.”
“Only one thing?”
“Be kind. This is difficult.”
I smiled through the sudden blur in my eyes.
He continued.
“There are things I can’t know.”
His voice softened.
“I don’t know what our life will look like in twenty years. I don’t know what problems we’ll face. I don’t know whether Mia will ever stop referring to me as Tall Adrian when she’s annoyed.”
