Not for the first time you wonder why you're sitting here with him, watching him chew his food with his mouth open, listening to him rail at you (not for the first time) for putting your work ahead of him, ahead of them.
You sit there across the table from him, twisting the ring on your finger. Noting, (not for the first time, you think) that it really is a rock, one that's dragging you down beneath the surface of some unknown body of water. You hear him speaking somewhere out there beneath the haze of your thoughts, but you're not bothering to process his speech. He may as well be speaking Russian or some other language that Daniel would probably know, for all you are understanding him. Guiltily (and as it turns out, thankfully) you decide to give him your undivided attention for the end of his diatribe.
''Look Sam, I think that you're just going to have to resign and find another job that won't demand so much of your time. A job that will allow you to focus on your priorities.'' he tells you, pointing his fork at you to emphasize his point.
''And those priorities would be…'' you ask him pointedly.
''Us, of course. Our marriage, and eventually our three or four kids that we're gonna have.'' he says, grinning cheekily at you.
''And when will we be having those children?'', you ask, eyebrows raised.
''Well, pretty quick. You're not 25 anymore.'', he tells you, taking another bite of his food, again chewing with his mouth open.
Pete continues. '' I was thinking you would be a magnificent May bride, and that the third weekend is great for me''. He sees your face, and adds '' Well, we've got to set a date soon and if you're not going to do it…'', explaining his decision.
Shit, you think to yourself. When the hell did you let this dweeb or any other man dictate the terms of your life?
Because, you tell yourself, society has decreed that at your age, it is time for you to settle down and have a family.
Settle being the key word, you uncharitably think to yourself.
The same society that you have spent most of your life fighting. Repeatedly telling supposedly well-meaning people to go to hell when they told you that women didn't study math and science, become fighter pilots, or command elite military groups.
And why the hell should you stop fighting society now. After all, you have to admit, you've had a pretty successful life, and breaking with the tried and true at this late point in your life just wouldn't make sense.
You look at Pete, and you know that he realizes that for better or for worse, he has the final answer to his proposal as you twist the weight/ring off your finger and let it drop.
After the clang of metal on the table, the words that come from your mouth are basically unnecessary. Pete understands perfectly and immediately knows he was wrong to try for someone so out of his league.
But you say them anyway, because the very same society that got you into this mess demands that they be uttered for propriety's sake. And you go back to reclaiming your life, living it on your own terms.
Later, as you finish carrying the last of your things back into your house that thankfully hasn't sold yet in this crappy real estate market, you set about reasserting yourself. You're learning to listen to your personality, even the not so convenient aspects that you've ignored for far too long.
Maybe General O'Neill will figure out a way to admit to his feelings that you're pretty sure he still has for you, maybe not.
Maybe you'll continue with reasserting your strength and finally confront him with the terms of your unique relationship. Maybe he'll agree to unlock the room, maybe not. After all, this is a man who has more baggage than the lost luggage room at LAX.
But either way, you know that you're going to be all right.