It was a cold winter morning; I looked outside my window while drinking my coffee.
The news was on that morning but I was not paying attention, I did however over hear them saying it was supposed to be warm later on today.
'Ha, yeah right!' I thought to myself, smirking as my eyes drifted pass the tree outside.
I watched the snowflakes hit the ground gently.
My boyfriend, Miles, came into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee.
"Morning sleepy-head." I greeted him, fluffing his hair in the process.
"Good morning.
Watcha planning on doing today carrot?" He asked me, smiling sleepily and calling me my nickname from middle school.
My actual name was Caralyn Thompson.
I was a regular college student, living with her boyfriend of 3 years in a loft.
"After class I have an interview with that Magazine 'French Couture' for that internship they we're talking about in my journalism class."
I responded, finishing my coffee and going to wash my breakfast dishes.
Miles smiled at me, "I'm proud of you baby." He said, hugging me from behind.
"Thanks babe that means a lot coming from you." I said.
The rest of the day passed by and when I got home, Miles was talking about taking me out to eat.
I agreed and went upstairs to get dressed, considering all I was wearing was my dirty school clothes.
I put on my beige dress and matching high-heels and applied my makeup.
After I was finished, I curled my hair down to my shoulders and did my bangs.
I picked up my purse and a jacket then went down stairs, when I saw Miles, he was dressed in a suit with a tie that matched my outfit.
"Well, don't you look spiffy?" I said, grinning and kissing his cheek.
We left the loft and headed to a French restaurant.
The sign outside the place said ‘Per Se’
It was a romantic place, here in New York.
We got a window seat and ate dinner together, giggling at the fact that this one woman’s dress was too big so she kept pulling it up by the bra area.
“Check please!” Miles said, as a waiter passed us.
The waiter came to our table with a bottle of champagne and the checking book.
“For the gentlemen and his guest, complimentary champagne?” The waiter asked, in a French accent
Miles and I answered at the same time, “Sure, thank you.”
The waiter poured it into some champagne glasses and handed them to us.
“Here’s to being with you.” I said, clinking my glass with his.
He smiled that smile that made my heart melt.
I started to sip my drink when something cold and metal touched my lips.
I put my glass down and looked to see what it was.
It was a ring, a ring in my glass!
Miles picked it up and come toward my chair, getting down on one knee,
“Caralyn Sage Thompson, would you do me the honor of being my wife?” He asked.
I was in shock; all I could do was nod and hug him.
“Caralyn, are you going to say something, haha, I’m nervous.” He asked, looking at me with his ocean blue eyes.
“Oh god…Yes, of course.” I said, giggling nervously and crying in the process.
Four months later, I finished college and we were married and living in California.
I ended up being an editor for the top magazine there and Miles was a fashion photographer.
The End
(Lol, random UNICORNS!)
