“You reorganized my entire filing system when I asked if you wanted to keep a spare key here.”
“That was unrelated.”
“It was stress organizing. You do it when you’re processing emotions.”
Meg opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. He wasn’t wrong.
They stood in the kitchen together, drinking coffee, the morning light slanting through the window. Outside, she could hear the ocean — always the ocean, in this town. The steady rhythm of waves that had become the soundtrack of her life.
“I like having you here,” Luke said quietly. “In case that wasn’t clear.”
“It’s clear.”
“Good.” He took a sip of coffee. “Because I was going to ask you something, and I wanted to make sure you knew that first.”
Meg’s heart did something funny. “What kind of something?”
“The kind of something that might require stress organizing afterward.” Luke set down his mug. Turned to face her fully. “I had a whole plan, you know. Sunset on the beach, maybe some candles, definitely better clothes than this.”
“I like that shirt.”
“I know you do. You steal it constantly.” He smiled, soft and fond. “But then I woke up this morning and you were making coffee in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, looking at the ocean through my window, and I thought—why am I waiting for the perfect moment? This IS the perfect moment.”
“Luke—”
“Let me finish. Please.”
Meg nodded, not trusting her voice.
“I’ve loved you for longer than I knew,” Luke said. “Longer, probably, if I’m being honest. I loved you when you left for San Francisco, and I loved you when you came back, and I’ve loved you every single day of this chaotic, wonderful, completely unpredictable year.” He reached out, took her hand. “I don’t need a sunset or candles. I just need you. Here. With me.”
“Are you asking me to move in?”
“I’m asking you to marry me, actually.” His thumb traced circles on her palm. “Anna had the right idea—but I want to make it official.”
Meg laughed—a surprised, watery sound that washalf-sob. “You’re proposing in your kitchen. In your marine biology shirt. Before nine AM.”
“Is that a problem?”
“It’s perfect.” She set down her coffee mug. “It’s absolutely perfect.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes.” She stepped closer, close enough to see the hope and uncertainty in his eyes. “It’s been a yes all along. I just didn’t know how to say it before I was asked the question.”
Luke kissed her.
It wasn’t dramatic—no sweeping music, no grand gestures. Just Luke’s hands in her hair and his mouth on hers and the morning light warming them both. It tasted like coffee and love and something that felt like home.
When they pulled apart, he was grinning.
“So,” he said. “I should probably mention — I don’t actually have a ring yet. I was planning to do this properly, remember? With the sunset and the candles.”
“I don’t need a ring.”
“You’re getting a ring. Eventually. Once I figure out what kind you’d want.”
“Something simple. Nothing flashy.”
