Remember...

There I was 21 years old, innocent and sweet, my new dress sparkling in the glow of the bathroom lights. Blonde curls bobbed around my round and freckled face. I was standing in the very restaurant where a mere year and a half later I would be celebrating my last “single” night. Emma stood before me shaking with anticipation, her hazel eyes glowing with excitement. She had only just learned the date of a momentous occasion I had so eagerly been awaiting. I jumped up and down begging for her to tell me the date; after all, I wanted to be prepared for the occasion. She finally gave in, as Emma always does, “He’s going to propose to you on Valentine’s Day” instantly regretting her decision, she looked down at her red leather pumps and whispered “don’t ever tell him I told you! Please?”
"I won’t” I promised.
I never did.