Is that okay? Noah thought about everything they’d been through. The storm, the foundation, the scrutiny, the doubts. Thought about Emma and Lucas and the family they were building together. Yeah, he said. That’s more than okay. They stayed on the couch long after they should have gone to bed, talking about nothing and everything, making plans for a future that finally felt real instead of terrifying.
Somewhere in the house, Lucas started crying and Victoria groaned. “I’ll get him,” Noah offered. “We’ll both go.” They went upstairs together, and Noah thought about how much had changed in less than a year. How his life had split into before and after the night he’d stopped in the storm. Before had been survival, after was living, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The proposal happened on a Tuesday afternoon in October, almost exactly one year after the night Noah had stopped in the rain. Not romantic, not planned, and absolutely nothing like the elaborate proposals Emma had been suggesting for months. Noah was in the kitchen making sandwiches for lunch while Victoria worked from home and Lucas played with blocks on the floor.
Emma was at school. It was ordinary, domestic, completely unremarkable. Then Victoria’s phone rang and Noah heard her voice change in the other room. What do you mean complications? How serious? Noah abandoned the sandwiches and found Victoria standing by the windows, one hand pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Okay.
Yes, I’ll be there as soon as I can. She hung up and looked at Noah with devastation in her eyes. That was Claire. She’s at the hospital. Her husband had a heart attack this morning. They don’t know if Victoria’s voice broke. I need to go. Can you watch Lucas? Of course. Go. I’ve got everything here.
Victoria grabbed her keys and purse, but at the door, she stopped and turned back. She crossed the room quickly, threw her arms around Noah, and held on like she was drowning. “I love you,” she said fiercely. “I need you to know that I love you and Emma and this life we’ve built, and I don’t want to wait anymore.
” Noah pulled back to look at her. Victoria marry me. Not someday, not eventually. Soon. I want to marry you because life is short and terrible things happen and I’m tired of being careful. She was crying harder now. Claire’s husband is 46 years old. They were supposed to have decades left and now she’s at a hospital not knowing if he’ll survive the day.
I don’t want to waste time we might not have. Well, Noah’s own eyes were burning. Is this really how you want to propose? in the middle of a crisis. I don’t care how it happens. I just care that it happens. Victoria gripped his hands. Say yes, Noah. Please say yes. Yes, Noah said, and Victoria kissed him hard, tasting of tears and desperation in love.
Then she was gone, racing to the hospital to be with Clare, and Noah stood in the kitchen with Lucas babbling at his feet and his heart pounding. They were getting married. Clare’s husband survived, though it was close. The heart attack had been massive, requiring emergency surgery and days in the ICU. Clare practically lived at the hospital, and Victoria was there almost as much, bringing food and sitting with her assistant during the long, frightening hours. She’s been with me for 8 years.
Victoria told Noah one night after coming home exhausted, “She’s not just my assistant, she’s my friend. One of the only real friends I have.” Noah understood. He’d seen how Clare managed Victoria’s impossible schedule while somehow making it look effortless. How she anticipated needs before Victoria articulated them, how she protected Victoria’s time and privacy like a guard dog.
“She’s going to need time off when he’s released,” Victoria said. “Probably months. I don’t know how I’m going to manage without her.” “You’ll figure it out. That’s what you do.” Victoria leaned against him, exhausted. “I’m so tired, Noah. of work, of responsibility, of feeling like I can’t let anyone down because too many people depend on me.
So, delegate, hire someone to fill in for Clare temporarily. Let your executives actually execute instead of running every decision through you. Noah ran his fingers through her hair. Noah ran. You don’t have to carry everything yourself. I don’t know how to not carry everything. I know, but maybe it’s time to learn.
Over the next few weeks, Victoria slowly started letting go. She hired a temporary assistant to handle the immediate crisis of Clare’s absence. She pushed more decision-making authority to her vice presidents, including David Reeves, who surprised everyone by stepping up competently. I think I’ve been micromanaging out of fear, Victoria admitted one evening.
If I control everything, nothing can go wrong. Except things go wrong anyway, and I just exhaust myself trying to prevent the inevitable. Welcome to the human condition. Noah said, “None of us can control as much as we think we can.” That’s a depressing thought or a freeing one. Depends on how you look at it.
Emma took the engagement news with the smuggness of someone who’d been predicting it for months. “Finally,” she announced. “I’ve been waiting forever for you two to figure this out. It’s been a year,” Noah protested. “A whole year? That’s ages.” Emma looked at Victoria seriously. Are we going to have a wedding? Can I be a bridesmaid? Can Lucas be the ring bear even though he’s too little to actually carry rings? Yes to all of that, Victoria said, smiling.
