Chapter 9 - The Proposal on the Mountain
In late August, as the summer began to turn toward the crisp gold of autumn, I took Cassandra and the twins back to the mountains near Boulder.
We hiked up a gentle, wildflower-covered trail that led to a high rocky overlook viewing the entire continental divide. The air was cool, sweet with the scent of pine and wild sage, and the sky was a deep, unclouded cobalt blue.
We set up a wooden picnic blanket on the grass. The twins immediately ran off under the watchful eye of our family dog—a gentle golden retriever we had adopted two months earlier—chasing blue butterflies through the tall grass.
Cassandra sat on the blanket, leaning against a smooth gray rock, drinking cold lemonade from a thermos.
I sat beside her, pulling a small, heavy velvet box from my coat pocket.
Cassandra noticed the movement and stopped mid-sip, her eyes widening as she looked at the box in my hand.
"Damon..." she whispered.
I didn't get down on one knee in a grand, dramatic gesture. I stayed right beside her on that blanket, where our children's laughter echoed through the mountain air, and opened the box.
Inside was a simple, breathtaking ring—a raw, uncut green emerald surrounded by a band of hand-carved gold, designed by a local artisan in Boulder.
"Three years ago," I said softly, taking her hand in mine, "I let fear, ambition, and lies take me away from the only woman I ever truly loved. I can't rewrite those years, Cassie. But I swear to spend the next fifty making sure you never doubt where my heart belongs."
Tears filled her green eyes, sparkling like the mountain streams below us.
"Is this green because of your eyes?" she asked, her voice trembling with a tender, humorous smile.
"No," I replied, pressing a soft kiss onto her knuckles. "It's green because it's the color of your eyes... and the color of the eyes you gave our children."
Cassandra looked at the ring, then up at my face, her tears spilling over her cheeks in a warm, beautiful wave.
"Yes, Damon," she whispered, leaning forward to press her lips against mine with a passionate, complete certainty. "Yes, thousands of times yes."
From fifty feet away, Luke stopped chasing a butterfly and looked back at us, his little hand shading his eyes.
"Mama!" he called out across the meadow. "Is the angry man kissing you again?!"
May you like
Cassandra pulled back from the kiss, laughing softly against my mouth, her cheeks flushed with pure joy.
"He's not the angry man anymore, baby!" she called back, holding her hand up toward the sky, showing off the sparkling emerald ring in the sunlight. "He's our daddy!"
