Dropping the Ball: a Holiday Rom-Com
Dropping the Ball: Epilogue

You can’t be an innocent bystander when you love an Armstrong sister.

If I had ever thought my future involvement with the Threadwork Gala would end with designing a massive rebar marigold art installation, I was re-educated within a week of last year’s event. Kaitlyn and Madison took all of five days to recover before the subject of this year’s gala had come up over brunch at Madison and Oliver’s house. Before I could finish my omelet, I’d been sketching out an idea on a paper towel.

Now we’re sitting beneath the fulfillment of that vision on New Year’s Eve in yet another venue that the guests can’t stop talking about. We have a stunning view of the Blanton Museum of Art—from our perch on the top level of the parking garage next to it.

“You and Madison did amazing work,” I say quietly by Kaitlyn’s ear. I don’t want to disrupt the guests listening to the Vitamin String Quartet performing live as we enjoy our soup and salad course.

This year’s theme is Glass Ceiling, inspired by Gabriela Juarez’s work as a way to talk about the limits women hit in the garment industry in nations where textile manufacturing is a major economic driver.

Kaitlyn’s eyes dance as she turns to brush a kiss against my cheek. “Only because we hire the best people.”

I designed the plans for this temporary event space, and for the last three weeks, construction crews have been in a mad rush to finish this “top tier” build, the concrete now transformed by temporary flooring and walls, and above all . . .

Above all, an incredible ceiling glints and glows, an abstract sea of glass ribbons, interwoven without ever tangling as they spread in gentle, patternless curves over the event space. Gabriela made the opaque glass tubes in shades from ecru to blush pink, drawing her inspiration from a vintage baby shower invitation she found in a box of old postcards and stationery at a thrift store.

I keep catching guests looking up at it, lost in awe.

Kaitlyn shimmers with happiness. Or is it thousands of glass beads? All the women shimmer with them, their beaded gowns catching and refracting light. Kaitlyn worked with Maheen again, and this dress is the blue of Kaitlyn’s eyes, designed and sewn by Maheen, fitted by Lidia Perez, beadwork done over the course of three months by Isa.

The quartet finishes its performance to loud applause, and this year’s emcee, Gina Smith- Harden, Austin native but America’s morning show sweetheart, takes the stage again. She’s already presented a short film overviewing the achievements of Marigold Dhaka and Austin, and she’s back to introduce the next performer.

“Arturo Ramirez is a rising star, a young man with an old soul who croons like the greats. Tonight, he’ll perform an American standard made popular by Frank Sinatra. But listen closely for a clue to our surprise auction item. Ladies and gentleman, please welcome Arturo Ramirez to perform ‘Fly Me to the Moon.’”

Madison, seated at the next table, twists to give Kaitlyn a look that says What are you up to?

Kaitlyn grins at her sister and claps as the singer takes the stage. “Wait until you see what I got for the auction. Madison will never believe it.”

“You got a juicy donation and didn’t tell me about it?” I ask. Looks like two of us are plotting surprises tonight.

She only grins and turns her attention to the stage as the music plays, and sure enough, Arturo begins singing in a baritone that immediately earns whoops from the audience. He’s the heir to the Sinatra/Connick/Bublé crown.

He gets more enthusiastic applause when he finishes. When it dies down, he smiles and says, “Thank you. And now it’s my honor to introduce a hero and scholar, astronaut Monique Johnson!”

A tall, slender woman takes the stage, her dark skin stunning against her sparkling white dress. Madison has now turned all the way around, kneeling on her chair and mouthing something at Kaitlyn. I can’t make out the words, but Kaitlyn smirks at Madison and nods at the stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of Moonshot” —a gasp from the audience, including me—“I’m here to announce the next item up for bid. You won’t replace it in your auction guide because our CEO, Michelle Lee, wanted to keep the element of surprise. Tonight, you will be able to bid on a trip to space.”

Excited chatter breaks out among the gala guests as a media package plays about the next Moonshot rocket launch. When it finishes and the swelling orchestral music accompanying footage of the view from the last Moonshot mission concludes, the astronaut steps back to the microphone.

“I will tell you from personal experience, this prize is priceless. Good luck, ladies and gentlemen.”

Gina Smith-Harden has returned to the stage, and she takes over. “Bidding begins at one million dollars. Do we have a bid for one million?”

A few seconds of low buzz sounds but no hands go up for the bid. Then a server approaches the stage to hand Gina a note. She accepts it, reads it, and smiles. “We have a buy-now offer for two million dollars. Can I get a ruling from our gala chair?”

Madison leaps to her feet and calls, “Yes! Heck, yes!”

The crowd erupts into laughter and applause, and I’m not sure how many of them hear Gina announce that the space trip now belongs to billionaire Rylan Hurley.

Madison races around our table, her gold gown capturing and throwing out brilliant light as she beelines for her sister. Kaitlyn is rising up to meet her, laughing as Madison sweeps her into a hug.

“We’ve already hit our goal,” Madison says.

Kaitlyn nods, probably because Madison is squeezing her too tightly for her to speak, but Kaitlyn doesn’t look like she minds one bit.

The rest of the evening goes well, and by the time the night has turned to dancing while we wait for the midnight countdown, they are nearly thirty percent over their fundraising goal. Every now and then, one of the sisters will call something like “Fashion school scholarships!” or “Culinary school in Dhaka!” and the other one will whoop.

I love watching their joy, but in a way, I’m watching it from a distance, more and more of my focus and energy turning toward my next big New Year’s Eve move.

I stay on the dance floor with Kaitlyn, Madison, Oliver, and all their friends, but my heart beats harder with every minute we get closer to midnight. When the deejay announces the last song before the countdown, I edge Kaitlyn toward the back of the dance floor where the bar is, telling her I want a drink to toast her with.

The countdown starts, the ball drops, everyone cheers, and we welcome the New Year with a kiss that tastes like champagne and . . .

And dreams come true.

I draw her outside of the temporary venue, away from the warmth of the heating lamps and dancing bodies. I’ve picked the side that overlooks the museum and Gabriela’s glass bluebonnet garden.

“You okay?” Kaitlyn asks smiling.

“I’m great, actually.” I clear my throat and shrug off my tuxedo jacket. It feels good outside, the air brisk in the mid-fifties, but Kaitlyn chills easily, so I drape it around her shoulders.

“Looking forward to another amazing year,” she says. “Threadwork is killing it. We’re going to be able to start working on our stretch goals eighteen months early after tonight!”

“Just Threadwork?” I say with a half smile. “Nothing else amazing to look forward to this year?”

She pushes up on tiptoe to press a warm kiss against my lips, her fingers sliding into my hair. “Always you.”

“That’s how I feel.” I swallow hard. I’m not nervous. It’s more like . . . I’m overcome? Overwhelmed? I have loved this woman in front of me for so much longer than the year we’ve been together, and I’m greedy for more. More Kaitlyn. More time. “This was the best year of my life. It doesn’t seem like it can get any better, but I know it will, because it happens every time I’m with you. You want to hear a cool math formula?”

She wrinkles her nose and lowers herself from her tiptoes, but she lets her hand slide from the back of my neck down to my chest to rest it against my heart. “Tell me.”

“Do you know what you get when you add enough days together?”

She tilts her head. “No. What do you get?”

“Forever.”

Her eyes soften. “Still not long enough.”

I slip my hand into my trouser pocket and pull out the small ring box that’s been burning a hole in it since I got dressed for the gala. Her eyes widen as I bring it up between us, her free hand moving to cover her mouth. My jacket slips from her shoulders, but she doesn’t notice as she looks from the box to me again.

“Micah?” Her voice quavers, hope dancing through it.

“I love you, Katie-Kat Kate Kaitlyn Armstrong. I have for a long time. You make me laugh. You make me think. You make me happy. You make me better.”

The hand covering her mouth moves to rest beside the other one on my chest, and she gives me a wobbly smile, her eyes shining up at me. “Jinx,” she says.

“You didn’t say that.”

“Yes, I did. In my heart.”

I grin down at her, this fierce, tender woman, and I’m not sure how my body can even contain my heart for how full it feels. “Kaitlyn Armstrong, I want to string every day of the rest of our lives together until it becomes forever with you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She says it before I even get the last word out.

“You didn’t even look at the ring,” I say. I’d spent a lot of time working with a jeweler to design just the right one.

“It’s perfect,” she says, still not looking at it. Her eyes don’t leave mine. “But it could be a bread twist, and I wouldn’t care. I love you, Micah. How should we start forever?”

I open the ring box and take out the two-carat cushion cut diamond engagement ring I bought with the bonus I earned from designing Deborah Fisk’s detached guest house this past spring. Kaitlyn can look at the ring whenever she wants, but I need it on her now, so I know this is happening.

She chose me. She is mine forever now, and I’ve already been hers at least that long.

I slide the ring on her finger, and she smiles at it, then back at me. I draw her in, drowning in her clear blue eyes.

“I think forever starts like this,” I murmur, and I claim a kiss from my fiancée.

When she finally pulls away to draw a shaky breath, she presses her hand to my cheek and brushes her thumb across my lips. “If that’s how forever starts, then I’m glad it never ends.”

And once again, Kaitlyn Armstrong soon-to-be Croft gets the last word.