12.09.2018

What better way to break through a months’ long writer’s block than by finally introducing SincerelyJFK readers to my #1 supporter and cheerleader: Shane Keegan. I’m sure most of you know my husband, whether it be personally or by social media stories dragging me through some awfully embarrassing meant-for-the-household-only moments. But some of you might not! To celebrate our two-year wedding anniversary today, here is the story of how we met eight Decembers ago and how we came to be engaged in the fall of 2016, recycled from our Knot website that was meant to give our wedding guests a quick glimpse into the makings of the marriage they’d be celebrating on Dec 9, 2018.

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“My daughter is on her way!” was all it took for Shane’s ears to perk and his impatience with this late arriving customer to subside. It was fifteen minutes to close, but a looming winter storm had my dad running into our local Town Fair Tire to order my snow tires. It was a Monday night and I was fresh off my 25th birthday weekend at Foxwoods so naturally I was in no rush to get there.

“I’ll stick around to see this guy’s daughter,” was Shane’s first thought.

It was his wicked Boston accent that hooked me, followed by his blunt sarcasm and seamless flirting. Did he not see my father standing right there, or was he actually that confident? (It’s the second one).

On the return trip to retrieve my car later that same night, I told my dad- “You can stay in the car. I’ve got this.”

After continued flirting, the inevitable pick-up line was finally dropped.

“So you work at Beverly Hospital? Do I need to hurt myself to see you again?”

“My cell phone number is right there. You just called me to tell me my car was ready. Feel free to use it for personal use.”

A quick flip of the hair and without any further goodbye, I turned and left the store.

Fast forward four years and the summer of 2016 was full of seven close friends’ weddings. With each and every one came the wine-induced, “it’ll be our turn soon, right?” in the late night hours afterwards. Friday, September 9 was no different as Shane took me home from a NH wedding with the excuse that he needed to work early in the morning. Once home and in bed the waterworks started and there was the, “Boo… it’ll.. it’ll be us soon, right?

We had our summer Santarpios picnic at Piers Park in East Boston planned for that next day when Shane would be wrapped up with work. I rallied a mediocre appearance with the idea that this was just our traditional picnic. After eating, and again reassuring me that the proposal was coming soon but just not in the cards yet, I continued to relax and take in the view of the Boston Harbor. He went up to use the bathroom and I laid there oblivious, using our bag as a pillow underneath my head.

Shane came back and asked that I stand up for this. I saw him grab a small box from the same bag I was just unknowingly perched up on.

“Oh my God. He got me a promise ring.” Was my first thought. Sound the alarms!

He led me closer to the water and I started to talk myself into just going along with this elaborate plan he had devised for a promise ring. Humor him. He loves this kind of stuff.

I didn’t know he was proposing until he opened the box and I could see this was very obviously not a promise ring.

I whaled and I ugly cried, and his cousin who was lurking in the bushes the entire time caught it all on her Nikon.

A water taxi was waiting to take us across the harbor and into town. Our families were waiting in a penthouse suite of the Ames Hotel in downtown with champagne, balloons and treats. Shane hadn’t worked that morning; he was decorating a hotel room. And he even discreetly snapped pictures of all of my makeup as I was getting ready for our picnic to send to his mother to come scoop up and take to the hotel. The suite bathroom and closet were full of everything that was needed to clean up my hott mess.

We had dinner at Ocean Prime and neither of us could even eat. We should have just eaten our leftover Santarpios in bed.

I didn’t care- it was finally our turn!

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We had our turn, on a * brisk * 27 degree day at the top of a mountain in Vermont surrounded by our closest family and friends. Two years of continued laughter have passed since and I look forward to so many more.

Happy Anniversary to my husband, and thank you for always giving me that push on the butt to be the best and happiest version of myself (and most importantly for loving whichever me I decide to be that day).