Mark
I'd been carrying the ring for three weeks before the wedding, tucked into the inside pocket of my jacket at Claire's own ceremony, waiting for a moment that never quite felt right amid someone else's celebration. I wasn't going to steal that day from her, not after everything it had taken for all of us to get there.
But I knew, dancing with Sophia under those string lights, watching her laugh at something Peter said, that I didn't want to wait much longer.
"You've been unusually cagey all week," Peter said, catching me in the surgeons' lounge on Tuesday, watching me pace instead of eat the sandwich in front of me. "What's going on."
"I want to propose."
Peter set his own sandwich down slowly, a grin spreading across his face. "Finally. When?"
"Soon. I just don't know where yet.
