It was just another day at the beach for me. Rayce woke me up the day after our five-year anniversary with a smile on his face. He rubbed my back, like he always does to coax me out of sleep. I opened my eyes to sunlight streaming through the French doors directly in front of my bed. I smiled at him, sat up and looked straight out of the doors to the beach that lay outside. We were on vacation with his family in Gulf Shores, Ala., and it was time to drink some French vanilla coffee.

The day before, like I said, was our five-year anniversary.  I woke him up that morning in the room across a living area from mine. We didn’t share the same room when we stayed with his family, because we’re not married. We didn’t do much the day of our anniversary, since it was the first full-fledge sunny day at the beach after one day of straight rain and then cloudy skies. Rayce and I hung out at the beach the entire day with his family. We held hands; we even walked down the beach to look at the fancy houses in a gated community just passed the 11-room rental beach house in which we were staying.

That night, Rayce and I dined out at a restaurant in Orange Beach. I love his family, but it was nice to just be with him for a little while. That night, I begged him to spend the night in my room since it was our five-year anniversary and his family would never know. He told me it was against the rules, so I went to bed while he stayed up and talked with his cousins. I didn’t mind that much, because I love him.

But all that was on Tuesday, our anniversary. On Wednesday, July 20, 2011, the day after our anniversary, my vacation took a drastic turn which sent me on a roller coaster of emotion, because of which I couldn’t be happier.

After I ate some breakfast casserole his family made, I took my French vanilla coffee to the porch swing. The days prior, Rayce and I sat out on the second-story swing to read the news on our phones, while I finished my second cup of coffee. The swing faced the road and was outside of Rayce’s bedroom, which he shared with his male cousin and his cousin’s golfing buddy. I told him on this day that if he asked me to marry him within the next year, we could share a bedroom on the next family vacation. He laughed, and I didn’t mind because I love him.

We made it out to the beach around 10:30 a.m., which we discovered was a little too early because the breeze hadn’t kicked in. I wore my new Victoria Secret bikini, which I only bought because I thought it would make my boobs look good—which it did. It’s the only bikini I own with sequence on it. It’s a light turquoise color, and I deemed it my Princess Jasmine if-she-was-a-stripper bikini.

I wanted more of a tan, so I sat my beach chair out in the sun, while Rayce lounged underneath an umbrella. I downed a bottle of water, and he went through two beers. I was pretty eager to go on our walk, which we determined we’d do every day to get some exercise, because I thought it would help cool me off. I didn’t want to get in the water, because I worked so hard earlier coating myself in SPF 30 sunscreen. I asked Rayce a few times if he was ready to go on our walk, and he told me later. But I didn’t mind, because I love him.

***If you’re in a hurry, this part can be skipped. It just shines a little light on our relationship***

Almost to noon, Rayce walked back up to the beach house to use the bathroom, and he told me  we would go on our walk when he returned. I fell into sort of a heat-induced coma at this point. I heard his mother’s cell phone go off a few times, but didn’t think much about it because I was too hot. I was too busy fighting the urge to pee, configuring in my head if I could hold it until after our walk or not.

I turned and asked his mother how long she thought it took her son to pee, because I was ready to go on our walk. She laughed; his cousins didn’t. The three of them—two cousins and his sister all in the early to late ‘20s—hadn’t spoken to me much the previous three days at the beach. I spent three solid years with his younger cousin and sister, and I couldn’t figure out why they were acting so distant. Whatever.

When Rayce returned, I informed him that I had to use the bathroom because he took so long. When I was walking back to the door after leaving the bathroom, I eyed a banana. I figured—well he made me wait, so he can wait a little while. I took my time eating the banana in the kitchen, while talking to his grandmother about my bikini.

When I returned to the beach, Rayce was already standing and pointed in the direction we walked the two previous days. I told him maybe we should walk in the other direction to see the other part of the beach. He said he likes to look at the big fancy beach houses, because he likes to dream. He also jokingly accused me of going “number two” because I took so long in the house. But I didn’t mind, because I love him.

Rayce stood closer to the water and took my left hand. He told me as we started our walk that we didn’t hold hands enough the day before on our anniversary. I said “Hell yes, you didn’t hold my hand enough.” I’m pretty sure I did a little skip as I said it, too.

***People in a hurry, continue reading here***

As we walked past the big beach houses in the gated-community, we talked about what we liked or didn’t like about each one. There were about 10 beach-facing houses we evaluated. We agreed on the one with a greenish Spanish-tiled roof and a large bay window as our favorite. After the last house, the beach turns into a wildlife sanctuary. A little barbed wire fence expands the length of the sanctuary, of which we walked a good ways past. We saw a snorkeler who was meandering his way in the same direction as us just a few feet into the water. Rayce seemed very annoyed by his presence.

 Because the wildlife sanctuary was behind us, there were a bunch of heron birds, some as tall as to my shoulder, watching for fish as the waves came in. I found these creatures very distracting, as I was both fascinated by them and scared of them. Rayce said he’d protect me if one would come after me, which I thought was cute. Rayce spotted a log and suggested we sit and rest there. I thought that was a splendid idea, that way I could get better pictures of the herons.

The day before when Rayce and I took our walk down the beach, I collected a few seashells. When we were sitting on the log, he spotted a shell right behind him he thought I’d like. I mean, sure it was in good condition—not too broken or anything—but even with it sitting halfway in the sand, I could tell it didn’t have anything special to it. I need a wow-factor, some kind of cool design or odd coloring, to pick up a shell. So I told him I didn’t want it. He kept egging on, like “Are you sure?” I didn’t mind, because I love him. But I didn’t take the shell.

Then he turns around and points out a cork sticking out of the sand near where the non-impressive shell was.

Oh my God, I completely nerded-out at this point. I got so excited that we found a bottle buried in the sand—just like in the movies! After I dug it out with my hands, I even took a picture of it. I saw there was a little note inside and thought “Oh boy, it’s going to be a letter, and we’re going to respond to the letter and bury it back!”

I told Rayce maybe we should wait to open it at the beach house so we could share the surprise with his family. He said it could be a love letter or something not meant for us, so we should open it there and return it if needed. I was too excited to argue. And I didn’t mind, because I love him.

He opened the bottle for me, because I couldn’t get it open. When I had the little rolled-up note in my hand, I remember laughing while saying, “Oh my God, look! Psh, someone burned the edges to make it look old. But clearly it’s not old because it’s wrapped up with a bread twist-tie.” I’m a little bitch sometimes.

I was confused when I first opened the note, because I was expecting a letter format. But it wasn’t. It was a few sentences written in seemingly familiar hand-writing which read, “Five years ago, I was hopelessly trying to figure out how to ask you out. Now for the past few months, I’ve been going crazy waiting to ask you this…”

The first thing that popped into my head as I was reading the note was, “That’s weird. Somebody’s trying to ask someone out on the freakin beach.” When I turned to express that thought to Rayce, he was down on one knee with a little black box in his hand.

He could see my deer-in-headlight eyes through my sunglasses. For a split second, I remember thinking, “That better not be earrings in that box!” He then asked, “Kera, will you marry me?” as he opened the box to reveal a ring.

My heart started racing, completely shocked at what was taking place.

“Er… Are you serious?” were the first words that came out of my mouth. Yes, when being proposed to by the man I love, I say that. Mais jamais.

He goes, “Don’t I look serious?” And then I really looked at the ring, a marquee-cut yellow gold diamond ring. Mind you, we hadn’t previously looked at rings, but I made it quite clear since the spring what I wanted—a marquee-cut diamond in yellow gold; not a three-stone ring, but not a solitaire.

I stared with my mouth open and started crying and laughing.

He goes, “Well, you need to answer my question.”

And I yelled, “Yes, yes, yes! I’ll marry you!”

We hugged, kissed, and I brushed the sand off of my hands in order for him to put the ring on, which fit perfectly. We then sat and discussed whether or not we were ready for this, how he couldn’t wait for me to find a job in Bloomington and how he’s been scheming since the fall of last year. He had the ring since March. He asked my for my parents’ permission to marry me when he went down to Louisiana by himself at the beginning of May for a friend’s wedding. My family had to keep it a secret when I visited them at the end of May for my birthday.

Everyone at the beach house knew. EVERYONE, which explains why his cousins and sister weren’t really talking to me—they didn’t want to let it slip! His mom’s phone kept ringing because the people in the house kept asking questions, and they were trying to coordinate our walk with unannounced visitors. He got up at 6 a.m. to write the note; his stepdad burned the edges, and he and his mom buried the bottle that morning. We walked down the beach the day before so he could scout-out a spot and get me used to taking mid-day beach walks.

I tried to contain my composure as we walked back to the beach house. I kept thinking, “I’m engaged!”

Yea, that composure—I totally lost it as soon as we stepped through the beach house doors and everyone yelled in celebration. Rayce’s mom came up and hugged me and I cried, hard. I showed the ring to his family and we took a few pictures, even though I knew I looked like a hot-mess with my red nose, puffy eyes and falling-apart braid. Then Rayce reminded me I needed to call my mom, because she knew to expect a call after 1 p.m.

I could barely work my touch-screen phone because my hands were shaking so much. I called my mom and it just kept ringing. I said out loud, “C’mon Rita Mae,” while thinking, “This is a very important call. Pick up the phone!” and not looking forward to having to explain the whole experience over the phone.

Just as I was getting impatient, my mother, father and sister rounded the corner of the kitchen. My mouth dropped open. God damn it, he did it again.

I cried for what seemed like a thousand times more as I hugged my family, who traveled from Louisiana in secret that morning to share in my engagement. Rayce was scheming with my sister, Jena, to make it happen. Rayce’s dad even showed up!

I reread the note for everybody to hear, but I got choked up when I read the second sentence, to which I informed them through my tears, “Oh, you can read it.” I called my friends to tell them the news before they saw Rayce’s cousins’ posts on Facebook.

And that’s it. We had our engagement party later that evening. My parents stayed at the beach house over night and left the following evening after spending time on the beach, watching Jena and me parasail and eating ice cream. Jena stayed with me until Saturday, when we left for Illinois and his family drove back to Louisiana.

Since that day, I’ve been in awe of Rayce and the amount of effort he put into the proposal. He takes great care of the things he loves, which is evident by this story. I knew he loved me, but that proposal showed the extent of that love, which I am honored to have, and how far he’ll go to prove that love through time and effort. I never thought a man could love me that much.

I gotta tell you, I notice everything I do with my left hand now because of the ring. I find myself staring into it at times, amazed that he kept it from me for so long in order to give it to me at just the right moment. It’s the most perfect ring I never imagined owning. It doesn’t get caught in my hair when I run my hands through it, which I do often. It’s pretty noticeable, but classy. And it’s beautiful, like his love for me.

We don’t have a date set (I don’t even know what season I want to get married in). We don’t know where the ceremony will be (somewhere in Louisiana, but our families are three hours away from each­­­ other, which could be troublesome). Regardless of our current cluelessness, I’m sure it’s going to be a great, surprise-filled journey together.

Which I don’t mind, because I love him.