I thought our destination was going to be the jewelry box on top of her nightstand, so I’m surprised when she ushers me into my childhood bedroom instead. There are no longer any football trophies on the desk or blue ribbons from the fair tacked to the mirror. After Cassidy died and I moved out for good, my mom packed everything away for when I was ready to look at it again. So much of my life was interwoven with Cassidy’s that it hurt to be reminded of all the memories we shared.

Stepping back into my old room, it feels like a different person lived here. A boy buoyed by hopes and dreams he thought for sure would come true. Reentering this space, I realize just how much I’ve changed. I’m a man now, hardened by experience and strengthened by love. I don’t take so much for granted anymore. I cherish each and every blessing in my life because I know how easily they can be taken away. I’m wary, but I’m hopeful. Loving, losing, and loving again has taught me a lot. Life has knocked me down, but it has also picked me back up. A moment spent wallowing in despair is a moment I’ll never get back. Life’s too short to waste pining over the past. I’d rather look ahead to the future. And thanks to Ivy, I’m able to do that now. My spirit was tested, but it didn’t break. If my struggles somehow strengthened me, then it was her love that saved me. Without going through the heartache, I wouldn’t have the joy.

“What are we doing in here, Mom?” I ask, scratching my head.

“Sit down,” she responds, patting the new comforter.

Even though the room’s been redecorated, the bed’s still in the same place. I instantly flashback to all of the conversations I’ve had with my mom in here when I was growing up—how she boosted my confidence the night before the SATs, lifted my spirits after a season-ending loss on the football field, scolded me for scratching during a nasty bout of chicken pox. Looking back, she was always there when I needed her, and I intend to do the same for my child.

“It feels weird being in here,” I admit, looking around at a room I barely recognize.

“Good weird or bad weird?” she asks, pulling a velvet box out of her pocket.

“I don’t know. Just weird,” I confess, distracted by what she has in her hand. “Is that it?”

“Yep, your grandma’s ring,” she says, snapping it open to reveal the simple diamond solitaire. “Even though she never got a chance to meet Ivy, I know she would be proud to have her wear this.”

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, removing it from the satin cushion holding it in place. It looks so delicate resting on my palm. “But what if it’s not the right size? I mean, Ivy’s fingers are pretty swollen due to the pregnancy. I don’t want to mess this up by asking her to marry me then having to force the ring over her knuckle or something. I want it to be perfect.”

“Well, Eric, I think you’re going to have to wing it.” My mom pats my arm consolingly. “Besides, Ivy will probably want to wait until after she has the baby to have it sized. For now, she can always wear it on a chain around her neck.”

I try to hide my disappointment. My mom is only being realistic. There’s no way a jeweler can size it in time anyway. It’s just that I want to give Ivy a proposal she’ll remember for the rest of her life. No glitches. No screw-ups. And a ring that fits. But I guess it could be kind of sexy if I found a chain long enough for the ring to rest on her baby bump. I have to admit there’s something incredibly romantic about that.

“She knows this isn’t my first time doing this. That’s why I have to make sure it’s extra special,” I confess. This is one of those times where I’m glad I can tell my mom anything and she’ll understand.

“Does she know that you didn’t propose to Cassidy with this ring?” she asks, looking at me expectantly.

“It never came up,” I say ruefully. “Do you think that’s the first thing she’s going to think about when I ask her?”

“It probably won’t be the first thing that crosses her mind, but it’ll definitely be the second,” she states matter-of-factly, taking the ring from my fingers and placing it back in the box.

“Cassidy was just more of a girly-girl type. She insisted on picking out her own ring.” I shrug, not really understanding the ins and outs of the female brain. “When I approached her about wearing grandma’s ring, it’s not like she thought a quarter caret was too small…”

“But she dreamed of something bigger?” my mom replies knowingly, tilting her head.

“Exactly. But I never imagined how much it would cost. I only wanted Cassidy to be happy.” I furrow my brow, contemplating what I should do. “But this ring means a whole lot more to me. It always did. This is the one I see Ivy wearing, but I don’t want her to think I’m cheapening out on her.”

“Eric! She would never think that,” my mom admonishes. “I’ve gotten to know Ivy quite well over these past few months and I know she will cherish the sentimental value this ring holds.”

“You don’t think she’s going to compare it to the one I gave Cassidy? I mean, our engagement picture was everywhere. Ivy must have seen it.” I search my mom’s eyes, begging her to tell me the truth.

“Want my honest advice?” I silently nod my head, and she continues. “Take your time proposing to Ivy. Go somewhere quiet where the two of you can be alone. Start by telling her the story of how your grandfather proposed to your grandmother. Then, when you put the ring on her finger, it will mean so much more.”

“So you’re nixing my idea to get down on one knee in the middle of the airport?” I ask with a wry grin.

“Ivy is going to be so tired when she gets off the plane, Eric. What’s the rush?” she asks, getting to her feet. “No one likes to feel ambushed, especially when it comes to something as important as this. Wait a couple of days. Then take her somewhere special.”

“You do realize that if I can’t afford a diamond ring, then a trip to Paris is out of the question.” I nudge my mom with my elbow, following her out the door.

“I’m not talking about Paris, you knucklehead,” she scolds, swatting my arm as we approach the steps. “I was thinking a little closer to home, somewhere like the Hideaway Cliffs.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “Mom, you are brilliant!”

“I do have some good ideas from time to time. Don’t I, Frank?” she teases as we get to the bottom of the stairs and find my father snoring on the couch next to Shep.

I’m just about to laugh along with her when my phone rings. It’s an L.A. area code. I exhale for the first time today. Finally, I’ll get to hear Ivy’s voice.

“Ivy?” I say breathlessly into the receiver.

But it’s not Ivy. I turn slightly away from my parents to try and comprehend what I’m being told. My dad is fully awake now, and the two of them are looking at me with concern.

“And you’re with her now? She’s not alone?” I demand, my voice tight.

“Eric, honey. What is it? What’s wrong?” my mom whispers, tugging on my sleeve, but I hold up my hand for her to stop. I’m too agitated by what I’m hearing.

“I’ll grab the first flight out,” I insist, my eyes darting wildly around the living room. “When she wakes up, tell her I’m on my way, all right?”

My parents exchange a worried glance.

“Will, I need you to do this for me. You have to stay strong until I get there. You hear me?” I clutch the phone to my ear as my hand starts to shake. “Call me if anything changes.”

I jam my phone back into the holder on my belt, blinking back tears.

“Ivy was rushed to the hospital,” I manage to choke out as I drop to my knees, powerless to withstand this new wave of grief.

“And?” my dad urges as the two of them rush to my side.

“She’s in danger of losing the baby.”

Lauren

Now this is going to be fun—I can’t wait to watch them squirm.