Collin blackish's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Rowan bolted the door behind him and hung her coat on a hook. Collin stood in the front hall of her house, snow melting off his boots onto a dark wood floor. The room was tall and warm, with high windows and a long staircase curving up into lamplight. He had never been inside before. He had walked past this house all winter and thought of it as hers, and now he was in it, empty-handed, watching her cross to the stove to put the kettle on. His hand was in his coat pocket, closed around a small velvet box he had carried the whole way. He had not planned to do it today. He had planned to bring stew and see if she would eat with him. The ring had been in his pocket for a week because he was afraid to leave it in the cabin, not because he thought he would use it now. But she was pouring hot water into two cups without asking him what he wanted, and he understood that if he waited for a better moment he might wait through the whole winter. He took the box out before he could talk himself out of it. He said her name. When she turned, he was already on one knee on her wood floor. Rowan looked at the ring. Then she looked at him. She did not smile. She did not step back either. "You're doing this now," she said. "I am," Collin said. "I fed your stew to a cat," she said. "I know." She was quiet for a long moment. He could hear the kettle ticking as it cooled on the burner. "I pulled you out of that snow because I saw a shape that wasn't moving," she said. "I didn't know you. I know you a little now." She wiped her palms on her pants. "Yes. I'll marry you. I don't know why you asked today, but yes." He slid the ring onto her finger and it caught the lamplight. She held her hand out and looked at it like she was checking a receipt. Then she pulled him up off the floor and kept hold of his hand. "You should know something," she said. "My father owns this house. He's coming at the end of the week to close it up for the season. He doesn't know about you." Collin looked at the tall ceiling and the curved staircase and understood that the warm room he was standing in was not hers to give. "Then I'll meet him," he said. Rowan nodded once. "He won't like you," she said. "He doesn't like anyone. But he decides where I live." She let go of his hand and went back to the kettle. The ring stayed on her finger. Outside, the wind had picked up against the windows.