A Brush with Love(96)

“Delivery from—”

“I’ll be right down.” Dan cut the person off. He trotted back toward the bed, throwing on a T-shirt and hopping into a pair of discarded pants.

“What’s the delivery?” Harper asked, still wrapped in the covers.

“A construction crane to get you out of bed,” Dan said, trying to bite back a smile. Harper grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him. He easily dodged it with a laugh.

“Tell me!”

“I’ll be right back,” Dan said, slipping on his shoes and whooshing out of the apartment. Harper stared after him, wondering why he was being so weird.

Giving her limbs one final stretch, she rolled out of bed and padded to the kitchen, pouring a large cup of coffee for them both. A few minutes later, Dan reentered the apartment.

And he was holding a bouquet of purple flowers.

And a huge box of donuts from her favorite place.

Harper thought her heart might explode.

“What’s all this?” she said, her eyes going wide and a smile splitting across her face as she walked toward him, giving him a kiss.

“A surprise,” he said, going to hand her the flowers while she reached for the cinnamon rolls instead.

“And they’re warm,” Harper nearly cried, opening the box and taking a huge inhale, her eyes rolling back in her head. “A surprise for what?”

Dan didn’t say anything, looking at her nervously for a moment before plastering on a smile and moving around her to put the flowers in water.

Something was off, and a little rattle of anxiety twisted in Harper’s tummy. But she let it pass through her. She was learning how to do that: acknowledge her anxiety, but allow it to move along, letting it slip away without gaining purchase. Therapy was still a priority in her life, and it was helping tremendously with the stress of residency. Dan also continued seeing a counselor, coming to terms with his own issues of guilt and grief.

“Why are you being so weird?” Harper said through a mouthful of gooey cinnamon roll, sitting down at the tiny table off the kitchen.

Dan moved to sit next to her, his forearms leaning on his bouncing knees, making his whole body shake.

“What’s up with you?” Harper said, real concern furrowing her brow. She even set her cinnamon roll down to grab his hands in hers.

“I’m a little nervous,” Dan admitted, hanging his head with a laugh.

“About what?”

“Well…” He waved a hand toward the cinnamon rolls and flowers, letting out another nervous chuckle. “I guess I might as well go for it,” Dan said with a sheepish smile that morphed into his crooked, lazy grin. She loved him so much it hurt.

Then he reached into his pocket.

And pulled out a little velvet box.

Harper’s heart bounced into her throat. She hadn’t been expecting that.

“Holy shit.” Her voice was hoarse.

“Harper Horowitz,” Dan said.

“This seems a bit fast—”

“Will you do me the honor…”

“Is this not fast? I want to marry you but we haven’t even hit a year, I—”

“Of moving in with me?”

“Of course it’s a yes but—wait, what?”

Dan opened the box. A tarnished gold key sat where a ring normally would.

Her eyes shot to his and she saw him trying to bite back a laugh.

“You ass!” She punched him on the shoulder. “You made me think you were proposing!”

“What would make you think that? I’m not even on one knee.”

“I hate you!” Harper said, flinging her arms around him and placing rapid-fire kisses all along his cheek and neck. Her heart felt like it would take flight and leave her chest.

“Is that a no?” Dan asked, wrapping his arms around her and laughing.

“Of course it’s a yes. I—” She pulled back, a crucial thought popping into her head. “Judy can move in too, right?”

Dan shot her a look that said duh, and Harper beamed at him, happiness radiating from her as she hugged him again.

“Are you sure?” she asked, because it all felt too good to be true. Granted, it wouldn’t change much of how they’d been living, but it still felt monumental to take that next step with him.

“Of course I am. I want to fall asleep next to you every night. Wake up to your smile every day. Have both our names on the utility bills. I’m not sure there’s anything more romantic.”

“I’m not sure there is either,” she said with a laugh, a few tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

She kissed him, savoring the moment fully. His smell, his warmth, his energy. Him.

“Ask me who my favorite person is,” she said, pressing her hands to his cheeks, every cell in her body vibrating in radiant happiness.

“I thought questions like that make your brain melt,” he teased, running his hands up and down her rib cage.

“Ask me.”

“Who’s your favorite person, Harper?”

Harper leaned in, pressing a smiling, happy kiss to his lips before answering.

“You.”





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS



In so many ways, writing this book saved me. It was my space to pour emotions onto a page and discover that vulnerability is a superpower. It was written in the backs of lecture halls and during stolen moments between patients, words filling the pages at three a.m. when I was supposed to be studying. It was my brightest spot in a dark season of my life. But this book wouldn’t exist without the support of countless people, and I’m humbled to have so many to thank.