"I've been in love with you for almost a decade. Three months is slow."
"Fair point."
I slide the ring onto her left ring finger. With a teary smile, she looks at both hands—grandmother's ring on the right, new ring on the left.
Where we started. Where we're going.
"You proposed on a plane."
"I'm a pilot. Where else would I propose? A restaurant? Boring. A beach? Predictable."
"Normal people propose at restaurants and beaches."
"Good thing we're not normal people."
She chuckles. "No. We're really not."
"You okay with that?"
"Completely okay with that."
"Good. Because you're stuck with me now."
"Good thing I like you."
"Just like?" I screw up my face in mock indignation.
"Love. Okay, Iloveyou."
"That's better."
I cup her face with both hands and kiss her slowly, deeply, thoroughly, tasting tears and happiness and foreverness on her lips. Forever—starting right now.
"I love you."
"I love you too." She smiles. "When's the wedding?"
"Whenever you want."
"Not Maura's circus, and I don't want to special-order some stupid-looking edible gold leaves."
"From Paris. God no. Definitely not Maura's circus. Ours. Small. Just people who matter."
"Beach wedding?"
"If you want."
"With coffee?"
"I'll bring you coffee that morning. Every morning."
"Then I'll marry you tomorrow if you want."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
"Say it again."
