Dresden Gibson

     Cas makes good of his word, though it's a year later and so much has happened that I've forgotten he made the declaration. A surprise attack back, a surprise so huge I don't see it coming. It isn't a holiday, or a birthday, or an anniversary. Just a random day in September. Things are not normal, but they're the closest they've been to normal since the start of COVID-19 and the ensuing quarantine.

     I re-opened Weston's in July for takeout and mobile ordering, but it was a slow start. I started doing takeout for Weston's After Hours every Saturday to both give me something to do and increase the revenue. For the better part of July and August, I was barely making ends meet with the store.

     Things got better towards the end of the summer, enough that I could resume normal hours and Rumi and Tasha could return. Rumi's a senior now, but her high school is fully remote, so she's been here a lot. I let her do her zoom classes in the break room. This last years been hard on her. She lost her mother, grandmother, and two aunts to coronavirus.

     Tasha and I have tried our best to be there for her, but she's a grieving teenager. It seems like everything I say to her is wrong. She doesn't want sympathy, and she doesn't want to be coddled, but when I try to talk to her casually, I get choked up remembering that her mother isn't going to be there to see her graduate. That she lost several female figures in her life in one fell swoop.

     I realize that I'm not going to be able to ease her pain. You can't make someone happy when they're grieving. All you can really do is be there, quietly, readily, for when they need you.

     Not that it matters, because Cas shows up and he rains the sun down on her sadness. Rumi isn't Rumi unless Cas is in the room. He has a way with her that I just don't understand, but continue to be amazed by. He even manages to get a laugh out of her sometimes.

     I love him for lots of reasons. This has become one of them.

     It's Friday, so I'm out grocery shopping. Cas makes fun of my routine. He also makes fun of how often I go grocery shopping, which is sage coming from the guy eating me out of house and home.

     When I get home, I cook dinner, a simple rosemary chicken with some roasted potatoes because I'm tired and want something that's quick and easy. It's plated and ready for when Cas gets home. I always wait to eat dinner with him.

     I've just gotten out of the shower when I get a notification that the alarm at Weston's has been tripped. In all the years I've had Weston's, I've never had any problems with the alarm system.

     The alarm company calls me next. They ask for the code and I give it but explain I'm not there and am not sure if it's a false alarm or not. They let me know they'll be dispatching police. I call Cas as I get into my car and start making my way to the store.

     "Hey," he answers. "I'm on my way home. Whats up?"

     "The alarm got tripped at Weston's. I'm headed there."

     "Do you want me to meet you there?" he asks.

     "No, I'm sure it's nothing. The alarm people dispatched police. I'll call you when I get there if anything's up. But head home. You had a long day."

     He yawns as if to reaffirm it. "Alright, keep me updated, please."

     I beat the police to Weston's. The alarm's off and there's no sign of forced entry. There's lights on, though, in the back of the building, which I can see from the front door. They're dim, so maybe the kitchen lights. I wouldn't be able to tell from here if someone broke into Dolores's office, which is where we keep the safe.

     I try the front door, but it's definitely locked. I unlock it and step inside, cautious even though it doesn't feel like there's any threat. Unless someone broke in through the back door, which is more likely.

     I hesitate for a moment before continuing on. In the back of my head, I know I should wait. Wait for police to show up and secure the building. Wait for any sign that this isn't a burglary or someone planning to shoot me again. Cas would want me to wait. He's going to wring my neck when he finds out I didn't. 

     I don't wait, though. Maybe because I'm stubborn or maybe because I don't feel threatened. I feel uneasy, like I'm itching at a memory. Had I left the lights on when I left? Had Dolores come back and forgot to turn them off?

     I proceed quietly through the main room into the back. My heart thrums in my neck, quick and heavy, making my jaw ache. It isn't fear. It's anticipation. The thing right before the fear hits. The unease of not knowing.

     One glance down the hallway tells me no one's opened the back door. The locks are still turned. Unless they locked it after themselves. Dolores's office is closed and when I try the door, it's locked.

     There's light coming from a doorway at the other end of the hall. The door's open, which is not typical since it leads to the second floor and only the landlord has the key to access it.

     I thought about leasing the space once, when I was playing around with the idea of opening my own restaurant, playing around with the idea of a more permanent After Hours. That was before the pandemic. Before the state put restrictions on indoor dining. Now it feels like a far-away idea. One that exists in a world where there isn't a deadly virus running rampant and people aren't scared to sit in a crowded room without a mask on.

     Maybe someone else is leasing the space. I would think the landlord would have let me know that information, given the access they'd have to my own place, or that they'd simply use the outside entrance.

     "Hello?" I call up the stairs, waiting a moment for a response before I start up them. The stairs creak under my weight. It's a narrow stairwell and there aren't any lights in it. Looking up at the top, I don't think there are any lights on in the room either.

     My palm presses against my pocket where my phone is sitting, just in case.

     I get to the top and the space opens, large and finished, dimly lit by industrial-style light fixtures with vintage filament bulbs hanging from the high ceilings.

     It's Weston's, but it's not.

     It's been modeled after Weston's, with the same stained woods and black accents. There's a large kitchen in the back of the room, visible over a half-wall that separates it from the dining tables. The tables have been arranged around the room in a variety of sizes, seating four, seating six, even some long buffet-style tables that could hold large parties or a be communal style of dining. But only one table has been set, a table for two.

     Which is where Cas is standing, grinning at me hesitantly.

     He's not in his scrubs or the clothes he wore into work today. He's wearing a suit that's grey, almost blue. The windowpane design is very subtle on it. The shirt he's wearing underneath is definitely blue, but maybe closer to purple, and his tie, like his belt and loafers, are charcoal. These aren't pieces from his closet. They're new. I've never seen him dress quite like this before, so daring and stylish, like someone dressed him.

     When I meet his gaze, he smiles and says, "Surprise."

     He holds up his hand, pressing down on the button in it and the room is illuminated in a warm yellow light as the sign behind him, that hangs above the open kitchen, lights up.

     Weston's After Hours, it says.

     "What?" I start to say but it's more a jumbled sound than anything.

     Cas is still grinning. It's big, taking up most of his face. He's certainly pleased with himself. "Told you I was gonna surprise attack you back."

     It's a restaurant. My restaurant. Cas bought me my restaurant.

     "I did surprise you, right? You're surprised? Because this was the hardest secret to keep. No one should have to keep a secret so huge for so many months. I think I gave myself an ulcer."

     I gasp. "Months?"

     Cas keeping a secret for minutes is a feat.

     "Months," he repeats with emphasis. "I started construction at the end of May. God, and then you opened back up in July and that fucked me up. Do you know how hard it is to get people to do construction at night?"

     "May?"

     "It was pretty clever, right, with the alarm company calling you. That was actually Lucy. And I knew, I totally knew you'd check the place out before the police got here, which we're going to have a conversation about later, Dresden Gibson. Your self-preservation skills are sorely lacking. And—"

     Cas stops because I've crossed the room and pulled him to me, kissing him as hard as I can, a thank you and l love you wrapped in one breath.

     "Hi," he says sort of breathless as he looks up at me. "Surprise."

     I rest my forehead against his. "Huge surprise."

     He's grinning again. "One could even say monumental."

     "One would be right." I kiss him again, my brain and body trying to catch up with this moment. That I'm standing here with him in my restaurant. That Weston's After Hours is a real restaurant now. "I can't believe you did all this."

     "I also made us dinner," he says, gesturing with a nod towards the table. "Broke in your kitchen for you. Emphasis on the broke. Not sure the oven survived."

     My eyes dart to the table where the meals are covered with metal lids. "Is it edible?"

     "Oh hardy-har-har." He gives me a shove, stepping back. I reach out for him, wanting to pull him back in but he steps out of reach. I turn my head curiously. He says, "I want you to pursue your dreams."

     "Okay," I respond quickly. If Cas wanted me to quit my dreams, I'd do it for him. Asking me to live them out is not an ask.

     "I want you to pursue them with me." He presses his hands into his chest.

     My stomach swirls. The good kind of swirl. The nervous kind of swirl. "I want that, too."

     "Okay, good. Then we're on the same page."

     "We are."

     "Because a lot can change in a year," Cas says. "Nothing is guaranteed." He knows that better than anyone. He's seen it firsthand.

     I look at him, trying to figure out what he isn't saying. Cas gives nothing away. His expression is cool, like we're talking about the last episode of The Boys we watched.

     "But also," he says softly. "A lot can not change in a year, in five years. Like the way I feel about you. Actually, if my feelings are changing it's only because they're getting stronger. Which is crazy because if they get any stronger the force of it may start knocking planets out of orbit."

     I laugh, but it's a low sound that doesn't detour Cas. He's lamenting, the way he has a tendency to do. It is one of the most endearing things about him.

     He's still an arms length away, keeping the distance between us that is not nearly a distance. But I want him close. I want to hold him. When he starts saying things like this, I go mad with wanting him.

     He says, "The entirety of me loves the entirety of you. All of you. Even the things that drive me nuts. Especially the things that drive me nuts. Like that you waltzed into a building that might have been broken into without waiting for police."

     "It seemed safe," I say, trying to defend myself. He ignores me, trucking on.

     "I love how hard you worked on Weston's. I love how hard you worked on yourself. Which I didn't miss, okay? I see you. And I see the way you take care of others. I love that about you, too. I love the way you take care of me. I can't say that loud enough. Can't express just how much it means to me, because you do, you're constantly taking care of me and I am—I am so grateful, Dres, to be on this journey with you. I'll never not be grateful and I'll never want to not be apart of it."

     "I have no intentions of living this life without you again," I tell him honestly.

     Cas smiles, and it's a smile that tells me he knows that, that he's not worried. Which is good because if there was anything I feared most about our past, it was not so much that Cas couldn't forgive me, but that he'd never be able to trust me again. To have someone's trust again after breaking it — it's not something you ever stop thinking about, it's not something you ever stop being thankful for or that you'll ever take for granted. It's no small thing.

     "Well you don't have to," Cas says quietly that I almost don't even hear it.

     I think he's trying to say something important. I'm suddenly very aware of everything — the candles, fancy table setting, that Cas is wearing a suit, that I'm not. I'm wearing his sweatpants, so they're ill-fitting and a tee shirt I'd just grabbed as I was running out of the house. Also his, I realize as I glance down. There's a pickle Rick on my chest and Cas is saying too much that I want to get on my knees for him, prayer to this feeling, sanctify this moment.

     Cas takes a breath and then he says, softer than before, "Tonight's not just about the future of Weston's. It's about the future of us, too. Because when I think about what my life will look like five years from now — I don't see it."

     He pauses there like this needs to sink in. It doesn't. I've heard him loud and clear and I'm confused as ever.

     "When I think about our life, though, five years from now...we're happy and maybe we have kids and a new house and—."

     I cut him off.

     I say, "So then marry me."

     Cas goes still, goes quiet, mouth falling open into a delicate oh. It lasts all of one second before he shrieks, "Are you kidding me?"

     I stare, surprised.

     He shoots forward, slugging me in the arm. It's like a love tap, if anything. "You did not just hijack my proposal. You stole my freaking line!"

     So that's what this is. I fight back a grin as I say, "I mean, to be fair, you weren't really getting to the point."

     "Getting to the point?" he repeats. "I was trying to give a huge romantic speech to segue into my proposal. One you could tell our kids about and be like yeah, your dad is so poetic."

     "More like long-winded."

     "I'm going to revoke my proposal in five seconds."

     "I mean technically you didn't propose, I did."

     "Well take back your proposal because this is my proposal and it's going down in history as me proposing to you, not the other way around." Before I can even respond, Cas moves, getting down on one knee.

     "You don't have to," I start to say because him on one knee makes me shaky, destroys me, even though it doesn't change not a thing.

     He reaches for my hand, saying, "Dresden Gibson, chronic pain in my ass and best thing to ever happen to me and incidentally my dick as well, I fully intend to spend the rest of my life with you. Whether you like it or not, you're now saddled with me. But honestly, lucky for you because I'm aging like fine wine."

     I don't say anything, staring at him, aware of every feeling rushing through me. Aware of the overpowering need to take him right here. To forego the engagement altogether and consummate the marriage right now.

     "This is the part where you say aging more like a cheese, or something," Cas says clumsily.

     "I love you," I say instead.

     "Okay or you can say that," he mutters. "You're making me nervous looking at me like that. It's throwing me off."

     "You have five seconds to finish and then I'm taking you on the floor right there."

     Cas's eyes get wide and he mumbles the quietest "well fuck me" shaking his head as he reaches into the pocket of his jacket with the hand that's not holding mine. He has a ring box, that he opens against his thigh and then holds up to me. Inside is a thick ring, with three rows of little diamonds that are bright against the white gold band.

     "Marry me," he says.

     I drop suddenly to my knees in front of him, nodding my head. "Yes," I say. "Yes, Cas, I will marry you." Cas is pushing the ring down my finger but the five seconds are fully up so I'm pushing him back towards the ground.

     "But the food," he says as I crawl over him. He tilts his chin, looking up at me. I've got his legs pinned with mine. "It'll get cold."

     "We can reheat it," I say undoing the buttons on his jacket.

     "I made chicken parm," he says and I pause.

     "Like..." I trail.

     "The first time we cooked together," he finishes.

     It guts me. I can't hold myself up anymore, dropping so my head is in Cas's shoulder. There is nothing more we need — not rings, not a ceremony, not paperwork. I could not be any more married to this man than if God tethered our souls together.

     "Are you okay?" Cas asks quietly. I nod as he strokes the back of my head soothingly. "Because you're crying."

     "I'm just a little overwhelmed, " I say once I've caught my breath, turning my face so I'm pressed against his cheek. I breathe in, deep. He smells like rain, like a soft citrus with something dark and earthy under it.

     "What parts overwhelming?" he asks.

     "All of it."

     He takes a breath and then goes, "Like in a too much, too fast, too soon kinda way?"

     "Not too fast, not soon enough kinda way."

     "But it is too much?"

     I go quiet because it is too much but I wouldn't want it any other way. "When you walked in Westons, that first time, when Dolores hired you. You were so — you. It was like you filled the room with you. I couldn't take a breath without sucking you in, too. It scared the shit out of me. And it still scares the shit out of me. I think it's always going to."

     "Well, I know that must be true because you're cursing," Cas says and we laugh. 

     "I've run from my fears before, but I don't plan to ever again," I say finally and Cas goes silent, turning to find my gaze. I've said it in the most solemn way I know how.

     "I like to think that the universe conspired to bring us together."

     "I'd like to agree," I say feeling my heart rate return to something close to normal. Cas is right. I was crying and my cheeks have that tight feeling where the salt has dried. "So what are we doing? Fucking or eating?" I ask after another moment.

     "How are you going to ask me to choose between my two favorite things. That's like Sophie's choice. I mean obviously we're fucking but how dare you put me in this position where I actively have to—"

     I kiss him to silence him thinking I've got a lifetime ahead of me with this long-winded man.