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It’s dark and chilly when I step outside. A U-Haul truck swings around the corner too tight and clips the stop sign.
When I round the corner back to my front yard, there she is standing at the bottom of my steps and staring at my front door like I conjured her out of thin air with my wishful thinking. I can’t believe that’s worked twice for me now.
“Ryan.” She snaps her head toward me, wide-eyed. Her smile starts slowly, hesitant, like she’s unsure if she’s about to make me mad. “I’m homeless,” she says.
“What about San Diego? Your apartment? Your job? Your friends? I didn’t ask you to give up all of that for me. You should have talked to me. And now I have to fix a stop sign tomorrow. Otherwise, the HOA will send out an email asking for Ring camera footage.” Ryan waves me off. “When I got off the plane last time, I realized I didn’t want to be there. I think it happened slowly, piece by piece, visit by visit, but it isn’t home anymore. When I realized, the first thing I did was break my lease, and it turns out, my boss didn’t want to lose me. I’m pretty persuasive when Sage puts together a
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She shakes her head. “I still have one problem.” “What?” I sigh. “I’m homeless.” This is the point where I realize I never stray more than five feet from the ring I bought nine months ago.
It’s slow motion watching Ryan’s face change as I bend down on one knee and open the little black velvet box. Her blue eyes, welling with tears, bounce back and forth between mine and the diamond ring that she described to me over five years ago.
“God, Ryan, have you even rung the doorbell yet? He’s not going to be pissed, and I have to pee.” I close my eyes for a second before I crane my neck to see Sage, who must have materialized from the back of the truck, staring at us with her mouth agape. “Holy fuck,” she says. “I’ll pee in the street.”
“I love you, Ryan Walker. Welcome home.”
