“You have to be kidding,” she laughed. “Of course, I remember. How could I forget?”
“Well, we made a promise, the day we met,” he said, putting his arm around here.
“We were ten,” she said, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow. “We were little kids.”
“We were in the park and you said that you could swing higher than I could.”
“I could,” she said, “and I still can,” she teased, doing a few dance steps.
“I used my allowance to buy you an ice cream bar from the truck that always parked by the playground. You thanked me and ate it in three bites.”
“It was hot, I was hungry.”
“I thought you were the most wonderful girl in the world. I saw stars in your eyes and the entire universe in your soul.”
She stopped walking and turned to him. “We were ten.”
“I still see that. I see it every time I look at you. It’s all there. Entire galaxies.”
“I remember how the air smelled that day and I remember the little dog that was trying to get away from the the lady chasing her.”
“That was pretty funny,” she snickered.
“I remember your blue shorts and blue and white stripped shirt. You left your shoes by the sandbox and we looked for them for twenty minutes.”
“Someone had moved them. I like to be barefoot.”
“I know. I know everything you like.”
She put her arms around his waste. “That was fifteen years ago.”
“We said we would get married.”
She nodded against his chest.
“It’s time to keep our promise.”
“We’ve waited long enough,” he said.
“I thought you’d leave, if I told you I loved you,” she said.
“So is that a yes?”
She pushed him against the brick wall of the bakery and whispered “Yes,” before she covered his face with kisses.