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In the end, there'd really only ever been the one right way to do it.
He realizes the text he'd sent her had been maybe a little vague, maybe even a little more of a cause for concern. We need to talk had seemed fine at the time but then he'd remembered that the phrase carries a whole bunch of negative connotations with it that really aren't fair for people who are in relationships because sometimes, the need to talk really is there but it totally comes off as a bad thing.
A follow-up text had let Kate know that she should join him on the roof, and Newt has gone to great lenghts to make sure they won't have any unwelcome visitors by creating a false memo for every resident of Dimera--that's a lot of fucking residents, just for the record--that the door would remain locked for the evening. Kind of rude considering it's the Fourth of July? Maybe. He doesn't care all too much. His primary concern is that inviting Kate up to the roof isn't in itself isn't a dead giveaway because the roof has totally been their happy place since they'd started dating.
The flamingos are still up here, the telescope aimed in the direction of their stars, the table and chairs, the boombox--all of it's here. Nobody had thought or cared to move it, and it almost feels like that alone makes the roof theirs. He's been pacing back and forth for a solid half hour, pausing every so often to poke his head out over the ledge to see if he can spot her on the ground because she should be on her way back any minute but the fireworks are going to start soon and Christ, he's not nervous about what this whole thing is going to lead to but there's still that tight pulsing in his chest, there's the overwhelming sense of this could go terribly wrong.
What he clings to is the knowledge that there's not a single part of him that doubts how much he wants this. He's never felt about anyone the way he feels about Kate, has never felt this much love for a single person, and sometimes he wakes up wondering if Darrow hadn't just been one very long, very detailed dream. He couldn't have predicted this or even imagined it because the life he'd had before this wouldn't have allowed it. But right now, standing up on this roof waiting for Kate to arrive with his hand in his pocket, clutching at the ring, he knows that this is where he's supposed to be. This is what he's supposed to do.
Tonight, he's proposing. Tonight, he's going to be the happiest man in Darrow.
He realizes the text he'd sent her had been maybe a little vague, maybe even a little more of a cause for concern. We need to talk had seemed fine at the time but then he'd remembered that the phrase carries a whole bunch of negative connotations with it that really aren't fair for people who are in relationships because sometimes, the need to talk really is there but it totally comes off as a bad thing.
A follow-up text had let Kate know that she should join him on the roof, and Newt has gone to great lenghts to make sure they won't have any unwelcome visitors by creating a false memo for every resident of Dimera--that's a lot of fucking residents, just for the record--that the door would remain locked for the evening. Kind of rude considering it's the Fourth of July? Maybe. He doesn't care all too much. His primary concern is that inviting Kate up to the roof isn't in itself isn't a dead giveaway because the roof has totally been their happy place since they'd started dating.
The flamingos are still up here, the telescope aimed in the direction of their stars, the table and chairs, the boombox--all of it's here. Nobody had thought or cared to move it, and it almost feels like that alone makes the roof theirs. He's been pacing back and forth for a solid half hour, pausing every so often to poke his head out over the ledge to see if he can spot her on the ground because she should be on her way back any minute but the fireworks are going to start soon and Christ, he's not nervous about what this whole thing is going to lead to but there's still that tight pulsing in his chest, there's the overwhelming sense of this could go terribly wrong.
What he clings to is the knowledge that there's not a single part of him that doubts how much he wants this. He's never felt about anyone the way he feels about Kate, has never felt this much love for a single person, and sometimes he wakes up wondering if Darrow hadn't just been one very long, very detailed dream. He couldn't have predicted this or even imagined it because the life he'd had before this wouldn't have allowed it. But right now, standing up on this roof waiting for Kate to arrive with his hand in his pocket, clutching at the ring, he knows that this is where he's supposed to be. This is what he's supposed to do.
Tonight, he's proposing. Tonight, he's going to be the happiest man in Darrow.
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