Everyone burst into laughter.
Julian shrugged.
“I thought starting slowly might be wise.”
Lo miré.
– ¿Dónde?
“The diner.”
“The cheap diner?”
– Sí.
“The one where you took me on our first date?”
– Sí.
I pretended to consider it.
“For dinner only.”
“Dinner only.”
“No disappearing.”
“No disappearing.”
– Tú pagas.
“Absolutamente”.
Sonreí.
“Está bien”.
La multitud estalló.
Julian se rió.
Y que-
strangely—
was the beginning.
Not the continuation of our old love.
Something new.
We dated.
At seventy.
Ridiculous.
Slow.
Dulce.
A veces es incómodo.
He asked permission before holding my hand.
I told him that was unnecessary.
He continued asking anyway.
Six months later, he proposed.
I said no.
He nodded and took me for ice cream.
Three months later, he asked again.
I said:
“Still no.”
He said:
“Worth checking.”
A year later, I proposed to him.
He nearly fell out of his chair.
“You’re serious?”
