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˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚
Belly had no idea he was in Cousins.
He had to lie, which in Conrad’s retrospect is the hardest thing he could ever do aside from leaving Belly- which will not happen over his dead body. He's so bad at lying, he makes this weird face and Belly would always figure it out.
Hey, I have this conference in New York. It's only for 2 days.
Okay baby, take care.
He felt bad for lying and it was a shit excuse but somehow it worked.
She was usually impossible to surprise because she noticed everything. Conrad had once changed shampoo brands and she’d identified it within seconds.
“You smell different”
“You switched coffees”
“Did you cut your hair?”
It was terrifying.
She was still in Boston helping Taylor finalize her and Steven’s wedding details, which meant Conrad had exactly forty-eight hours to figure out how to buy an engagement ring without having a complete existential crisis. So he went to Cousins. To buy the ring. Why? He doesn't know exactly. Maybe he was just feeling sentimental and wanted something from the place that would always remind him of home just like how Belly is his home.
˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚
That night, Conrad couldn’t sleep.
He lay awake in his childhood bedroom at the summer house listening to the ocean through the open windows. The ring box sat on his nightstand.
Taunting him.
He’d imagined this moment before, not specifically. Just vaguely. Some future version of himself standing at the edge of forever with Belly. But now that it was real, panic had arrived right on schedule. What if she said no? The thought hit him so hard he sat upright instantly.
No. No, she wouldn’t say no. Would she? Conrad groaned and dragged both hands down his face. This was pathetic. He was twenty-seven years old. He had survived organic chemistry, grief, med school interviews, med school itself, panic attacks, and one memorable Thanksgiving where Steven accidentally deep-fried an oven mitt.
And yet the idea of proposing to Belly made him feel like he might pass out.
A soft knock interrupted his spiral. “Con? You awake?” Jeremiah.
Conrad dragged a hand down his face and exhaled slowly. “Come in.” The door creaked open, and Jeremiah stepped inside carrying two beers, already smirking like he knew exactly what state Conrad was in.
“One for you,” he said, holding out a bottle. Conrad narrowed his eyes immediately. “Why are you being nice?”
Jeremiah snorted. “Because you look like you’re about to throw up.”
Conrad accepted the beer reluctantly. “I’m fine.”
“You’ve been saying that since we were sixteen, and statistically speaking, you’re almost never fine.”
Conrad let out a reluctant huff of laughter at that. Jeremiah sat beside him on the bed, stretching his legs out comfortably. For a moment, neither of them said anything. Conrad stared at the label on the bottle while Jeremiah studied him from the corner of his eye.
Finally, Jeremiah spoke. “You’re really doing it, huh?” Conrad swallowed. The ring box suddenly felt impossibly heavy in the drawer.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.” Jeremiah nodded once, expression softer now. “She’s gonna lose her mind.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Jeremiah barked out a laugh.
“Con. Belly has been mentally married to you since she was like twelve.”
Belly, you have been in love with him since we were twelve. He recalls Taylor telling him this story. She and Belly in her room in Philly. Belly packing for their annual summer vacation at the beach house and contemplating packing a bikini, wondering if he would notice her that year.
He does. He always does and he always will.
Conrad rolled his eyes automatically, but his chest tightened anyway. Because maybe that was part of what scared him most – the weight of being loved that deeply. Belly had handed him her heart years ago, over and over again, even when he hadn’t known how to hold it properly. And now he wanted to do this right.
“I just…” Conrad exhaled shakily, staring down at the beer in his hands. “What if I mess it up?”
Jeremiah looked at him for a long second, something fond and knowing settling across his face.
“Mess up the proposal?”
“No,” Conrad admitted softly. “The marriage.”
The room went quiet. Five years ago, Conrad would've never said something like that out loud. He would’ve buried it beneath sarcasm or silence until it rotted inside him. But now the fear sat between them plainly and honestly.
Jeremiah’s expression gentled. “Con,” he said quietly, “you're not Dad.”
Conrad glanced at him. You're not Dad. Jeremiah leaned back slightly. “You're probably the only person I'm sure would not hurt Belly like Dad hurt Mom.”
Conrad looked away before the emotion on his face became too obvious. Jeremiah nudged his shoulder.
“And also, if you somehow screw this up, Belly will literally hunt you down, so.” Conrad laughed despite himself, the tension in his chest loosening just enough to breathe again. Jeremiah stood after a moment and headed toward the door.
“Hey,” Conrad said quietly.
Jeremiah looked back. “Thanks.”
His brother grinned immediately. “Don’t thank me yet. I fully plan on humiliating you during the engagement party speech.”
Conrad snorted. “Psychopath.”
“Love you too.” Then he disappeared down the hallway. And for the first time all night, the panic eased.
˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚ One week later ˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚
Conrad and Belly returned to Cousins.
The beach house looked alive on the Fourth of July. By late afternoon, the entire place glowed gold beneath the summer sun, every window thrown open to let in the salt air and the sound of waves rolling endlessly onto shore. The white shingles had faded slightly over the years, weathered by storms and summers and too many memories to count, but to the Fishers and the Conklins, it still felt like the center of the universe.
An enormous American flag hung crookedly from the porch because Jeremiah insisted he could hammer it in himself and refused help. Red, white, and blue streamers fluttered lazily from the railings, tangling in the ocean breeze. Someone, probably Taylor, definitely, had filled mason jars with cheap grocery-store flowers and scattered them across every table inside the house. The backyard was chaos in the most familiar way. Music drifted from old speakers near the deck, occasionally interrupted by static whenever someone walked too far from the Bluetooth connection. Coolers overflowed with melting ice, soda cans, beer bottles, and watermelon slices wrapped in plastic wrap. The grill smoked steadily while Steven argued with Jeremiah over who burned the burgers last year.
“Because it was you,” Belly yelled from her spot in a lounge chair.
“It literally was not,” Jeremiah shouted back immediately.
Conrad was in the kitchen cutting up strawberries when he heard the sliding door close softly. He looked up from the kitchen counter.
“You’re hiding something.” She accuses.
“No. I’m cutting up strawberries for the charcuterie board you insisted on.”
“Exactly. You hate strawberries.” Belly narrowed her eyes. He smiles. Pathetic.
Belly dropped onto one of the stools across from him, chin resting on her hand. Belly’s wearing a red gingham dress, thin straps tied into little bows at her shoulders. There was sunscreen smudged faintly near one strap. A tiny spot of melted strawberry ice cream near the bottom hem from earlier that afternoon. And around her neck, resting against the gingham fabric, was the silver infinity necklace he’d given her when they were seventeen.
Jesus. How is she so beautiful? I don’t deserve her.
“You’re weird lately.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“I’m serious.” He forced himself to stay calm.
“I love you.”
“Stop changing the topic. I know you do.” She giggles.
God help him.
“How would you know?”
“Because,” Belly said slowly, “you get this specific face when you’re nervous.”
Conrad nearly stabbed himself with the knife.
“I do not.”
“You do.” She pointed at him triumphantly. “That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you look emotionally constipated.” He barks out a laugh.
“Jesus Christ, Belly. Way to make me look like a weirdo.”
“You’re my weirdo.” She points out. That he is. She’s his weirdo. He laughs harder.
˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚
The proposal happened that evening.
Not because Conrad had planned it perfectly.
Actually, almost nothing went according to plan. After their conversation, it rained.
Fucking hell.
Jeremiah, stupid idiot that he is, accidentally revealed there was “a thing happening tonight.”
“I don’t know Bells, something might be happening tonight.” He sing-songs.
“The fireworks, Jer.” Belly counters.
“It’s raining, Bells. I doubt there would be in this weather.” He wiggles his eyebrows at his brother. Conrad wanted to tackle him into the pool.
An hour later, the rain had finally stopped. Taylor, now sitting across him from the table is looking at him intensely, studying him. He thinks Taylor can feel his nervousness from a mile away. She smiles knowingly and nods. She mouths, good luck. His stomach is in knots and he swears Belly can hear how loud his heart is beating as she's sitting right next to him.
This is it. I’m going to do it tonight. No room for errors.
˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚
Everyone crowded around the long wooden dining table that had somehow survived years of summers and Fisher-Conklin family chaos. The worn out matching chairs now wobbled if you leaned too far back, but nobody cared. Jeremiah dropped into his seat dramatically with three burgers already stacked on his plate.
“Are you preparing for hibernation?” Belly asked.
“I’m an athlete,” Jeremiah replied seriously before immediately stealing fries off her plate.
“You’re twenty-six.”
“And thriving.”
Steven nearly choked laughing into his drink.
The room buzzed with overlapping conversations, the kind where nobody fully listened because everyone was talking at once anyway. Taylor was halfway through a story that kept getting interrupted by Jeremiah arguing over the correct way to grill corn. Steven kept opening and closing the screen door every thirty seconds- letting in bursts of ocean air and the distant sound of crashing waves. Conrad sat beside Belly with his knee pressed against hers beneath the table. It was such a small thing, barely noticeable to anyone else, but he felt every shift of her leg against his like a current running through him. Belly leaned into him naturally while she talked, stealing bites off his plate without asking. At one point she reached for his drink instead of her own out of pure habit, taking a sip mid-sentence before realizing. Belly caught him staring at her at one point.
“What?” she asked, already smiling.
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?”
“The weird emotional staring thing.”
Jeremiah groaned loudly from across the table. “Oh my God, can you two wait until dessert to be disgustingly in love?”
Belly threw a napkin at him without missing a beat.
Conrad laughed softly, the sound getting lost beneath the noise of everyone else talking over each other. And for a second, he looked around the table and felt it fully; the weight of years inside this house. Summers layered over summers. Childhood blending into adulthood so seamlessly it almost hurts. The beach house had seen every version of them; sunburnt kids tracking sand across the floor. Being moody teenagers falling in and out of love. Grief sitting silently at the head of the table after Susannah was gone.
We're all a little bit older now yet somehow we're still the same - just better versions of ourselves.
˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚
Conrad found Belly in the kitchen rinsing sand off her hands in the sink.
The party behind them had dissolved into that lazy kind of nighttime chaos the Fourth of July had to offer, music drifting from the deck, distant laughter rising and falling with the crash of waves, Jeremiah yelling about fireworks somewhere outside. Maybe they’ll light it since the rain had already stopped. Belly glanced up when Conrad walked in.
“Hey,” she said softly. Something in his expression must’ve given him away immediately because her smile shifted, smaller now, curious. “What?”
Conrad suddenly forgot how words worked. All he could hear was his heartbeat pounding against his ribs. Then he held out his hand. “Come with me?”
Belly studied him for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. “Why do you sound nervous?”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.” Conrad huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Belly.” Her expression softened instantly at the sound of his voice.
“Okay,” she said quietly, slipping her hand into his. He led her out through the back porch and down the wooden stairs toward the beach. The sounds of the party faded gradually behind them, swallowed by the wind and the ocean stretching endlessly dark before them. The sand was cool beneath their bare feet now, still holding traces of warmth from the day. Belly walked close beside him, shoulder brushing his arm every few steps. Conrad kept glancing at her like he needed to make sure she was still there.
“You’re being weirdly quiet,” Belly teased gently.
Conrad swallowed hard. “I’m trying not to throw up.” Belly laughed softly, the sound carried away by the breeze. “That bad?”
“You have no idea.”
She bumped her shoulder against his. “Well now I’m scared.”
“You shouldn’t be.” The words came out too quickly, too earnest. Conrad slowed their pace as they neared the shoreline. Waves rolled in softly, silver beneath the moonlight, foam curling around their feet before retreating back into the sea. Belly’s hand tightened slightly around his.
“Conrad…” He looked at her then. Really looked at her. Her hair now blown messy by the wind. Her cheeks still pink from the sun earlier. The soft confusion in her eyes melting into something more vulnerable as she watched him. And suddenly every version of her existed at once inside his mind. The little girl chasing him down the beach. The teenager he loved so much it nearly ruined him. The woman standing in front of him now, holding his hand like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Wait.” Panic shot through him instantly.
“What?” Shit. Fuck. Holy Shit
“You’re shaking.” Damn it. Conrad laughed weakly. “Maybe a little.”
Belly stared at him. “Oh my God.”
Holy fucking shit I’m doing this. Do not fucking mess this up, Fisher.
Mom, where are you. I need you.
“Are you going to do what I’m thinking you’re about to do?” She asks slowly. “Conrad…” Hearing his name almost nearly ruined him.
Do not drop the box. Do not fall face first into the sand.
He reaches into his pocket carefully. “I had this whole speech planned,” he admitted shakily. “It was probably decent at some point, but now I can’t remember any of it.” Belly was already crying. Which somehow made him more emotional.
“I love you,” he said softly. “I’ve loved you for basically my entire life.” Tears slipped down her cheeks. “You’re the first person I think about every morning.” His voice trembled slightly now. “And the last person I want to talk to every night. And I just…” He laughed helplessly. “I can’t imagine a future that doesn’t have you in it.”
Belly covered her mouth with both hands as Conrad dropped to one knee in the sand. She made a strangled sound that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
He opened the ring box. The diamond illuminating against the moonlight.
Belly froze. Not horrified frozen. Not overwhelmed frozen. Surprised frozen.
Fuck.
Conrad blinked, “...What?”
Belly stared at the ring like she’d seen a ghost.
“Nooo.”
Conrad’s soul immediately left his body. No? What do you mean no? His brain short-circuited instantly as fear creeped in.
“You hate it,” he whispered.
“What? No!”
“You said no.”
“No, not to the proposal!” Belly looked genuinely distressed now. “To the ring!”
Conrad’s heart stopped. “You hate the ring.”
“No! Conrad, listen to me—”
“You hate it.” He feels like crying.
“I DON’T HATE IT.”
Conrad stared at her in complete panic while Belly suddenly started laughing so hard she could barely breathe. “Holy shit. Oh my god. I cannot believe this.” Which somehow made everything worse.
“What is happening?” he demanded.
Belly pointed at the ring box with wild disbelief. “That ring!”
“What about the ring? Do you not like it? We can go to the store and change it right now.” He’s speaking so fast he feels like he’s going to have a heart attack. Belly laughs harder.
“Isabel Susannah Conklin, I swear to god.” Her laughter minimizes as she assesses Conrad’s panicked state then giggles again as she sees Conrad still on one knee in the sand.
“I KNOW THAT RING.”
Conrad's confused. “What?”
“I’ve been to that jewelry store.” She's still giggling. Belly looked personally victimized by destiny itself. She looks at the sky, points and says, “You’re crazy.”
Conrad froze. “…What?” He’s aware he sounds like a broken record.
“Twice.” Now it was Conrad’s turn to stare.
“You went to the jewelry store? The jewelry store down the boardwalk?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“TO LOOK AT RINGS.” Silence. Ocean waves crashing. Wind. You can hear Conrad’s brain fully shutting down.
“You looked at engagement rings without me?” he asked weakly.
“Taylor dragged me in there months ago and we saw that exact ring and I literally said, 'Oh my God if Conrad ever proposes I want this ring'.” She broke into disbelieving laughter again.
Belly was laughing so hard, she's squeaking everything she's trying to say as tears streamed down her face now. “I cannot believe you picked the exact same ring.”
“You picked it too!” He exclaimed.
“I know!” Conrad started laughing helplessly.
Belly suddenly grabbed his face with both hands. “Wait,” she said through laughter. “Did Mrs. Kaplan know?”
Ah. Mrs. Kaplan. She and her husband own the only jewelry store in Cousins. They've met before, when he was seventeen, when he bought the infinity necklace. Mrs. Kaplan showed him the entire store that day and nothing felt right until he saw that silver infinity symbol hanging from a dainty chain. It felt like her, so simple, yet so endless.
Conrad paused. “…Maybe? Also how do you know...”
Belly squealed-screamed. “That woman watched me try on this ring TWICE, Con. TWICE. She absolutely knew.”
Conrad looks around trying to find a hidden camera, thinking this must be an elaborate prank by Jeremiah or Steven.
“I wish this was filmed, oh my god. Wait, is this being filmed?” Belly asks, as if mirroring Conrad’s thoughts.
“Baby...you still need to..." Oh right.
“Okay okay, fuck. Belly, stop laughing.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Isabel Susannah Conklin, please spend the rest of your life with me. Will you marry me?” Finally.
“You do know I’d marry you in a 7/11 right?”
“Yes or No, Belly.”
“Yes. A thousand times, yes!” She grabbed his face again, both hands warm against his cheeks.
“You idiot.” Relief crashed through him so violently he nearly tipped sideways from the force of it. Before he could even catch his breath, Belly pulled him toward her and kissed him. The impact of it was soft and desperate all at once. Conrad barely had time to react before he was kissing her back, one hand instinctively sliding around her waist to steady himself or maybe steady both of them. Belly was laughing against his mouth, breathless and disbelieving, and the sound unraveled something deep inside him. He kissed her harder then.The ocean wind tangled in Belly’s hair as Conrad cupped the back of her neck, his thumb brushing just beneath her ear while he kissed her like he still couldn’t quite believe this was real. Belly smiled into the kiss, and Conrad felt it against his mouth.
Fireworks burst somewhere down the shoreline, painting flashes of green and red across the dark beach, but Conrad barely noticed them. The only thing he could focus on was Belly standing on her toes to kiss him deeper, her fingers curled into the front of his shirt like she never intended to let go again. When they finally pulled apart, neither of them moved far. Their foreheads rested together, breaths uneven, both of them still laughing quietly under the weight of what had just happened. Belly’s engagement ring glittered between them whenever the fireworks lit the sky. Conrad looked at it for half a second before his eyes found hers again. Then he started laughing too; helpless, overwhelmed laughter that came from somewhere deep in his chest.
“What?” Belly whispered, grinning.
“I was so convinced you were gonna say no.” Belly stared at him in disbelief before grabbing his face again.
“Conrad Fisher,” she said, voice thick with emotion and amusement all at once, “I would’ve followed you anywhere.” And somehow, impossibly, hearing that felt even bigger than the yes.
Behind them, screaming erupted from the dunes. Taylor. Jeremiah.
Steven yelled, “FINALLY.”
Belly groaned. “They were watching us?”
“Unfortunately.” Conrad buried his face in Belly’s shoulder laughing. And somewhere in downtown Cousins, Mrs. Kaplan was probably feeling unbearably smug about all of it.
For Belly, Conrad is the sun And when the sun comes up, the stars disappear.
˚₊‧✩*☆˚‧˚𐭩︵‿༻ -fin-☆༺‿︵𐭩˚‧˚☆*✩‧₊˚