all, he’d put a towel rod in every unit of this place, and he’d taken up his own share of chores—changing the filters on the HVAC units, clearing out the dryer hoses when they clogged, helping Marian when she finally convinced Nora to get that wallpaper down. He watched ball games with Jonah; he made beer with Benny; he even spent one afternoon a few weeks ago flying a drone with Mr. Salas and a group of people who had a whole club devoted to amateur robotics.
“Thanks, everyone,” he said. “I couldn’t have pulled this much off without you.”
“Oh, now stop that!” Mrs. Salas said. “We’re honored to help. You know we love you.”
He smiled, straightening his glasses. He supposed he’d gotten used to this, too. He supposed he couldn’t remember it any other way.
Behind him, gravel popped, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the final guests for the evening had arrived. He went to the back fence, greeting Gerald and Sally. Sally patted his cheek but practically flew by him to get to his neighbors, whom she maintained were “the greatest group of people you’d ever want to meet.” He watched as she clutched Emily in a hug, moving right on to Marian after.
He and Gerald hung back, and Will was grateful.
“Nervous?” Gerald said.
Will wiped his palms on his jeans. “Hell yes.”
“You think she’ll say no?”
“Jesus, Gerry. No?”
Gerald rocked back on his heels. He was wearing a short-sleeved collared shirt with a bunch of brightly colored pelicans printed all over it, and his gold wedding band gleamed on his finger. Will looked at his face and saw he was doing his version of a smile.
“Funny,” Will said.
“I don’t believe you have anything to be nervous about,” which was a nice vote of confidence.
Will cleared his throat. “I don’t want to be some asshole doing a big public proposal.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Was this a mistake?”
He saw Deepa come out the door, and she waved and winked at him. Despite Nora’s many stories about Deepa’s inability to keep a secret, she’d been an absolute vault about this one. Still, he figured he was about two minutes away from Nora coming outside with a tray of stuffed mushrooms and—once she caught sight of her best friend, and Will’s, to boot—a real good sense of what was about to go down.
“Will,” Gerald said, in that permanent stick-up-his-ass voice that Will had come to love. “I’ll remind you. You have spent two years getting to know Nora, and all the people and things that are important to her, and she’s done the same for you. You’ve planned all this for her because you know the right way to love each other. And you know the right way to ask her this question. Don’t forget that.”
Will nodded, swallowed down a press of emotion. “Thanks, man,” he said.
Gerald looked straight ahead, lowering his brow. “Now, now,” he cautioned. “You certainly know I don’t approve of that kind of nickname.”
And then, as was his habit, he walked away.
Exactly as he’d expected, Nora really did know, as soon as she caught sight of Dee. With her flower crown listing to the side and her arms full of way too many stuffed mushrooms for this small crowd, she gasped and nearly tripped over the long hem of her dress, her eyes bright with moisture already.
“Dee?” she said, but almost immediately her eyes went to Will, beaming a smile that he thought could’ve lit up the whole night sky.
He stepped forward and took the tray from her before she dropped it, and immediately Nora ran to Dee, hugging and exclaiming in joy, and as Will set down the tray, he figured that alone was worth the price of admission, even if she ended up hating the rest of this whole thing.
She greeted Gerald and Sally, too, her hand against her heart. “I’m so—so this is a small poetry night, I guess!”
He walked over to her, set a hand on her back. “I hope you won’t mind. I’ve been around long enough now that I, too, can use poetry night for my own purposes.”
She smiled and flushed, her hands coming up to press against her cheeks, and he caught Gerald’s eye.
Not a mistake, he thought, and Gerald gave him a nod.
“Why don’t we go ahead and sit?”
She nodded and sat beside him in the front row of chairs, clutching his hand tight, and then the evening he’d been planning for got started.