Invariably he would massage my back, or I would massage his legs before we would work out whichever body part that day. I had become accustomed to touching him. I even looked forward to it. I could not explain it back then why. That had become our routine for the first 6 months of me being in New York. The subway rides back and forth to work, the shirtless work outs, the coming over to have dinner or watch a game. I made sure to have an excuse to allow him to spend as much time with Isabelle as he should. I didn’t want to monopolize his time, nor to be the third wheel in that relationship.He opened up to me about the possibility of proposing to her. He knew it was still too early, but he really felt she was the one. And he thought a ring might be a good reason for them to finally move in together. All those lonely nights at home were a torture for him.He planned on proposing the next Friday night. He had a whole fancy dinner planned at some hoity toity restaurant in midtown, followed by a walk to the Hudson River where he had hired one of these elaborate “will you marry me”
