6.09.00
She let her mind wander back. Eight years ago. When she got her perfect proposal.
They were on a boat, moonlight spilling over onto the deck. The reflection of the Seattle skyline hovered above the ocean, lit to perfection, kicking back off each ripple and roar of water. Coastal clouds slowly began to roll across the deepening twilight sky, turning silver with the reflection of the moon. The air was cool on her porcelain skin, almost crisp. The sky in the distance was a backdrop of black velvet for the main display, a string of glittering stars, fragilely dangling, about to sprinkle on them from the heavens at any second. He knew it was time and as he got down in front of her on one knee, he steadied his shaking hand and opened the little blue box, a perfect Tiffany’s solitude 2-carat diamond engagement ring, cut to perfection, and asked her to be his wife.
Tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to overflow at any second, she looked down at his deep brown eyes, flecked with sparks of hazel, so full of love. He looked so hopeful, eyes so full of wonder, ready to give his life for the one he loved. She knew she loved him too. But that was just the problem. She loved him. But she was not IN love with him. She blinked back the tears and slowly reached out to push the box away. “No,” she whispered. “I can’t.”
It was the only answer she knew she would never regret. Everything was absolutely perfect about the proposal, except the couple involved. And marriage wasn’t going to change that.