“Here.” Chay handed me thick mittens and a scarf. “Your mom helped me sneak these out for you.”
“But you hate ice skating.” I’d been asking him to go with me all winter, and his answer was always the same: I hate ice skating. It’s too cold to go sliding around on my butt on an overgrown ice cube.
“Yeah, but you like it and I love you. So I want to take you ice skating.”
I pulled him to me and kissed him. He was a romantic at heart, even if he was moody and occasionally intolerable.
When I pulled back from our kiss, I caressed his cheek. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, just remember this day when I want to go to a football game.”
I laughed. “Deal. Let’s go.”
Chay was right. He did spend most of the time sliding around on his butt. I spent the time giggling at him as I glided across the ice. I loved to skate. Even the cold night didn’t bother me. It was so beautiful. The trees surrounding the ice, the lights, Chay… there wasn’t anything any better. Or so I thought.
He slid to me on one knee, grabbing my hand.
“I wanted to do this on one knee, but I’d hoped to be standing first.” One side of his mouth tipped up in a half grin.
He pulled my mitten off and kissed my hand before sliding a gold band on my ring finger, engraved with our names, one on each side of a small diamond.
I stared at it, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. I had no idea what to say. Was he asking me to marry him? I wasn’t ready. I loved him, but…
“Milayna, I want you to wear this. I promise to love you with all my heart. I’ll be yours, and only yours, as long as you’ll have me. This ring is a reminder of that promise.”
I was speechless. I knew I should say something, but I couldn’t get my mouth and brain to work together. I stared at the ring, then looked at Chay, then looked at the ring again.
Tears sprang to my eyes, and I pulled him up to me. I framed his face with my hands and kissed him, my warm, salty tears falling on our lips. “I love you,” I whispered.
“Does that mean you’ll wear my ring?”
“That means I’ll never take it off my finger.”
Smiling broadly, he held out my mitten for me to put on. Taking it from his hand, I stuffed it in my pocket.
“Your hand will freeze,” he said, frowning.
“Nah. Besides, I want to watch the lights sparkle off my ring. Look at it.” I held my hand out, moving it slightly so the diamond would catch the lights. Streaks of colored fire burst from the stone. “It’s more beautiful than the stars in the sky,” I said quietly.
“Don’t go getting all sappy. It’s just a ring.” He tried to play it cool, but I could tell he was holding back a smile.
“Don’t ruin the moment, Chay. You manage so few good ones.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it.”
“You know what this means, right?”
“What?” I was still admiring my ring.
“You’re mine.”
I dropped my hand and looked into his eyes. “Chay, I’ve always been yours.”
He smiled and lowered his lips to mine.
***
When Chay took me home that night, I showed my parents the ring. I was nervous about what they’d think. Chay made it clear it wasn’t an engagement ring—we were both too young for that. But it was a commitment ring, almost like a pre-engagement ring. Or something like that. I didn’t know, really. I just knew it was his ring and he wanted me to wear it. So I did. And I loved it.
“It’s beautiful, Milayna,” my mother said, smiling. She held my hand out and moved it slightly so the stone would catch the light. “The diamond is so clear and sparkly.”
My dad slapped Chay on the back and tried to work up a glare, but he laughed instead. “I told you there was nothing to be nervous about. She loves it,” he said.
“Wait, you knew?” I asked, looking between the three of them.
“Of course we knew. Chay asked for our blessing days ago.” My dad gave Chay’s shoulder a small squeeze before walking toward the kitchen whistling.
***
Chay and I spent all of Sunday together. First, we had breakfast with Chay’s parents. I showed them my ring. His mother gushed over it. Of course, they already knew. Chay asked them for advice before going to my parents. But it was fun showing it off, even to people who’d already seen it. They hadn’t seen it on my finger, and that made all the difference. A ring in a box was just a ring. A ring on a finger was a symbol of love. Or something ooey, gooey like that. My head was full of all kinds of mush. I couldn’t get the silly grin off my face.
After breakfast with Chay’s parents, we spent the afternoon doing homework before having dinner with my parents and brother. It was a wonderful weekend… until they arrived.
“We have visitors,” my dad told me.
“Who?”
“I’ll give you one guess. They’re waiting for you on the swing set.”
“Damn hobgoblins,” Chay muttered.
I grabbed a quilt, and we walked outside. Sitting on the swing on the back deck, we watched the goblins climb on the swing set and run through the backyard playing in the snow.