Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“That might be just slightly dramatic.” She holds up a finger and thumb an inch apart to demonstrate. “But classic Everly.”
I work on the book every spare second for a month. Graduation is looming, final exams and papers coming up in every class. Sawyer offers to give me whatever cash I need so I can quit my part-time job at Grind Me, but I tell him no, thank you very much, big daddy. I do ask him if I should get an apartment with Chloe after graduation or not. He says not, but stops short of asking me to move in with him and Jake. Instead he reminds me that he owns the condo next door and the nanny is only using one bedroom, winking as he says it. Time will tell but I think we all know how that’s going to end.
I find a place that will turn your work into a book. So I digitalize everything and hand off Forever Home to be printed. Just one copy. I drew the pictures myself. It’s not the best artwork in the world, but art is subjective, right? It doesn’t matter to me, because the only person it was meant for loves it. We read it together every time we’re together. It’s our story, Jake’s and mine. But at its heart it’s a story about loving the family you put together, piece by piece. That includes nannies and teachers, friends and grandparents. Cats and dogs too. Even goldfish.
A couple of weeks before graduation Sawyer tells me he wants me to attend a work function with him. Something boring about an acquisition and spouses in attendance. I don’t focus on the details other than the when and the what to wear.
He picks me up at school and drives me back to the Ritz-Carlton. I make a production of asking him if he’s made up this business dinner in order to lure me to a fancy hotel room for sex, nostalgic about my outburst on our first date.
Now, like then, he tells me we’re just parking the car.
Oh, well. A girl can hope.
He takes my hand and we head towards 15th Street, walking through Dilworth Park towards John F Kennedy Boulevard. Love Park is ahead of us, walled off in construction fencing, the year-long park renovation well under way. So I’m surprised when we stop, a security guard opening a gate for us to pass through with a nod from Sawyer.
“What are we doing, Sawyer? The park is closed.”
“Just cutting through,” he says.
But he leads us further into the park, stopping at a small candlelit table, champagne chilling in an ice bucket beside it.
“I lied,” he says.
I like where this is going.
He pulls out a chair and seats me at the table, then sits across from me, face serious.
“Everly, I have something important to talk to you about.”
Yes. Yes, you do. Can I squeeze another yes in here? All the yeses.
“What’s that?” I ask calmly. I’ve been wearing Show Me the Ring on my nails for a month.
“Do you think you could delete the Sawyer Camden is a dick board from your Pinterest?”
My eyes widen. I so forgot all about that. I make a mental note to never again forget what a little stalker he is.
“Consider it done.” I smile. It’s loud downtown. Why have I never noticed that before? I hope I don’t miss anything important. I focus on Sawyer but he’s not saying anything. Just staring at me expectantly.
“Um, now? Did you want me to delete it right this second?”
He raises his eyebrows and nods.
I fumble for the clutch in my lap, my hands a little shaky. I get it out and open up the Pinterest app, pulling up my boards. But it’s gone. Replaced by a board named Marry Me, Everly. There are hundreds of pictures of the words ‘Marry Me.’ On coffee cups and neon signs. Spelled out in the sand and written on chalkboards. I’ll look at them all later, but right now, Sawyer is on one knee in front of me, a ring in his hand.
“Everly Jensen, will you marry me?”
I must say yes because a moment later the ring is on my finger. It’s perfect. A cushion-cut stone surrounded by a perimeter of smaller diamonds that continue around the band.
Of all the rings I’ve looked at on Pinterest it’s the one I loved the most.
Sawyer is filling my glass with champagne when I notice a bottle of nail polish on the table. I recall that it was in his hand, the ring resting around the cap.
“You bought me nail polish?” I question, picking it up. It’s orange, my favorite color. I immediately flip it over to see what it’s called.
Everly Ever After is printed on the label.
I’ve never even told him about the nail polishes.
I’ve said it before—life really has a way of working out for me. My advice? A positive attitude and the ability to be flexible is essential. And a dash of delusion never hurts.