Diane took another sip of her wine and glanced over at Sam, who was working the grill, grinning like a maniac. She never thought she'd see the day - Sam Malone, domesticated. He wore a bright red apron emblazoned with "Mr. Good Looking is Cooking." The scary thing is, he bought it for himself.
"Diane, how do you want your burger?" he called.
"Well done - just like my man," she tossed back, smiling.
"Coming up!" he practically sang, flipping the meat with abandon.
Secretly, Diane was vowing this would be her last burger - she'd decided to go vegetarian. Maybe she wouldn't tell Sam this until after the wedding.
She looked around their yard - fairly small, as the house was technically located within Boston proper. She pictured their children running around - maybe they'd have to upgrade at some point.
"You know, honey," Sam called over, his eyes still fixated on the grill. "I never saw myself doing this kind of thing."
"What kind of thing, Sam? Grilling?"
"The whole husband thing - the whole family thing - I don't know. But now that I'm here, I don't know why I waited so long."
"Well, technically you still have a week of bachelorhood left."
He quickly skipped over to her and kissed her. "In my mind, we're married." Then he hopped back to his grilling.
Diane took another sip of wine and tried to let her mind relax. This IS what she had wanted. For at least six months, she'd been absolutely desperate for it, she admitted to herself. She knew she'd basically made a fool of herself, chasing Sam down and trying to force a commitment out of him. She'd convinced herself she only did that because she was certain it was what he really wanted too - and to judge by his behavior lately, she hadn't been wrong.
If anything, Sam had seemed to adjust to their engagement better than she did. Oh, sure, she gave no real outward signs of that. She zealously went ahead planning their Cheers wedding, buying things for their new home. She'd even learned to compromise in ways that, a few years ago, would have been impossible - witness their upcoming Disney World honeymoon, for instance, or Sam's grotesque dogs-playing-blackjack painting in a prime spot over the fireplace.
But she felt something unsettling and darkly foreboding deep within herself. She didn't quite know what it was - and she dared not stare it in the face.
Her entire life she had wanted one thing - to publish a novel. It hardly seemed possible that this might not be her destiny after all.
Somewhere along the line, the one thing she desired more than any other had been supplanted by her desire for Sam Malone.
She told herself she was happy with her choice. She wasn't sure she was that great of a writer anyway - and yet she was fairly confident she'd make a great wife, a great mother. And she was even more confident that there was no one else she wanted to be those things with other than the strapping man in front of her wearing the silly apron.
"Sam," she called out. "Are you happy?"
He glanced over his shoulder, surprised.
"What?"
"Are you - happy?"
He set the greasy spatula aside, ambled over, and plunked down next to her on the bench of the little picnic table they'd bought last week.
"Well, to tell you the truth, I'd be happier if we had a bigger grill. I saw a three-level one at Handy City." He grinned and, sensing she wasn't in the mood for banter, put his arm around her.
"All right, what's wrong?"
"I don't know… I… I have this really eerie feeling. Like I'm living in some kind of a dream and going to wake up to a cold reality any minute."
"Well, I am pretty dreamy, so that's understandable." He nudged her with his shoulder. "But to answer your question, yeah, I'm happy. Are you?"
"Yes, I … Sam, do you think it's possible that human beings shouldn't be too happy? That when they are, the fates swoop in and snatch their happiness away from them? Like Icarus flying too close to the sun. As Croesus cried out, 'Solon! Solon! Count no man happy until the end is known.'"
"You'd be a lot happier if you read less books, Diane."
"Fewer books, Sam."
"Whatever," he said, rolling his eyes and returning to his grill.
Later that night, they lay entwined in each other's arms in bed.
Diane had no earthly idea how their sex life could have actually gotten even better - but it had.
She had always thought that their powerful attraction mostly stemmed from the antagonism of their relationship and their conflicted feelings for each other - but now that things had settled down emotionally between them, and they were free to explore their love in a safe environment, the sex had become even more heightened and intense. They made such a racket with each other she wondered how their neighbors could stand it - good thing they had a detached house.
She listened to Sam's breathing, growing slightly heavier and more rhythmic, and knew he was about to fall into a deep sleep. She plucked gently at his chest hairs and realized she had to get him before he was completely out.
"Sam?"
"Yes, dear?" he asked, groggily. "Dear" was his sarcastic little way of letting her know she was beginning to get on his nerves.
"I - I can't shake this feeling that something is going to happen to us."
"Then don't shake it, strangle it." He ran his fingers gently up and down her arm, trying to soothe her.
"Did you really want to marry me - or just get married?"
He sighed heavily. She was really pushing it now.
"Sweetheart, we've been through this. I love you and want to marry YOU. No one else. And no, I didn't want to just get married. It was probably the last thing I wanted to do - but it seemed like the time was right, and the woman was right. Everything was right. Why are you trying to find a problem where there isn't one?"
"I don't know - I just have this terrible premonition."
"Diane, I'm sorry I put you through so much. I've apologized a thousand times."
"Um, more like twice."
"Okay, let's make it three times then. I'm sorry. If I could do it all over, I'd marry you the second you told me I was a magnificent pagan beast. Now can we go to sleep?"
He kissed her on the forehead and wrapped her in a bear hug.
"Just to be clear, that was a phone message," she murmured, snuggling into his neck. "But I agree with her."
Diane loved him so much she felt a tear trickle out of one eye and roll its solitary, lonely way down her cheek.
She couldn't sleep for hours - she didn't consider herself superstitious, but she just knew something was out there, waiting to pounce - determined to ruin everything. And even more gut-wrenching, she was convinced that she herself would be the agent of their downfall.
"I love you, Sam," she whispered. "More than anything."
He didn't answer, as he was already fast asleep.