"Hello?"
He chuckled, knowing exactly why she was out of breath. "Hey Ace, where did you leave the phone this time?"
"It was under the couch, I forgot that Finn knocked it over when he tried to surf on the cushions during our last movie night."
"Finn was at a movie night?" He attempted to picture his insane best friend voluntarily submitting to the sugar torture known as a Gilmore Girl movie night.
"Yeah, Mom's going through an Annette Funicello phase and needed a Frankie Avalon. Finn, not being one to miss an opportunity to star in his own version of The Graduate, volunteered to 'oil her up any time she pleased'". He heard her shudder, knowing that she was mentally blocking out any images of Finn coming near Lorelai.
"So how was the 'Beach Blanket Bingo'?"
"Not entirely awful, I'm just lucky my mom is one of those women who were born knowing how to flirt, I think by the end of the night, she was hitting on Finn more than anything else. How's Hong Kong?"
"Busy, formal, quiet. It's bizarre how little sound fifteen million people make." She made a sympathetic noise.
"Are you eating really good Chinese food? Because once you get back to London or our home, China Palace is just not going to cut it."
"You know, over here, it's just called food, Ace. But yes, I am, and the Szechuan chicken from today's lunch definitely puts New Haven's best Chinese restaurant to shame, let me tell you."
Her voice sounded confused; "But you don't even like Szechuan chicken, you only tolerate it in our fridge because I consider it almost as necessary as marshmallows."
"Ah yes, but you like Szechuan chicken, and since you've forced me to endure many months of it crowding my garlic shrimp, I may or may not have confused the takeout boxes a few times and eaten it." He smiled at their banter, making his large, impersonal hotel suite feel a little like home.
"You jerk! You kept blaming Finn for eating all of my chicken every time I came home and it was gone! I feel bad now for yelling at him, I'm going to owe him now. See what trouble you cause?" Her tone was too playful to be serious, and he was happy to give it right back to her.
"If Finn wants repayment in a physical form, remind him that I still have a videotape that could be conveniently 'found' if he propositions you."
"Ooh, what's on the tape and where is it?"
"Now it really wouldn't be fair if I told you, would it?" He purposely toyed with her, baiting her to get a reaction that he missed being able to see in person.
"Mean! If you were here, I would so make you at least think about sleeping on the couch!"
"Have you gotten soft in your punishments on me, Ace? I would just have to think about sleeping on the couch, which means that you couldn't actually kick me out of our bed?"
"You know, you're so lucky there's a lot of distance between us right now, mister. Otherwise, we're talking Bonaduce."
He groaned at her reference. "I thought we decided that VH1 wasn't an appropriate channel for you and Paris to watch together? What happened to CSPAN?"
"Umm, ever since Paris told Doyle Tucker Carlson's bow tie really, and I quote, 'revved her engine', Doyle's been having a hard time remembering to put pants on in their apartment, but he never forgets his bow tie. Ugh. After the first time I walked in on them, I couldn't look my grandpa in the eye, with visions of grandma telling him the same thing."
"Oh my god, Ace, was that necessary to share your pain with me? I was very, happily, might I add, oblivious to our own Paris' sexcapades."
"What's mine is yours, baby. Oh, did I tell you? My grandmother somehow managed to railroad the construction of my building at Yale, so the dedication will be in a few weeks, woohoo!" Her voice resonated with sarcasm, which Logan found absolutely adorable and hysterical.
"Oh, you mean the Lorelai Leigh Gilmore Astronomy building? However will you sit for a portrait in time?" He mocked her, waiting for her response.
"Did you and Mom like secretly convene somewhere to discuss all the humiliating aspects of having a building named after me at Yale while I still go there? 'Cause I almost get the feeling that you two divided up the mocking responsibilities equally."
"Scout's honor, Lorelai and I have never discussed it, but now that you mention it, I'm sure we could probably devote at least a dinner's worth of conversation to it. What do you say?"
"I say once again, be happy that you're so far away, because lately Finn has been the recipient of my pillow throwing and he whines like a little girl over barely a bruise."
"Ace, how can I be happy when I'm the only blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy in this country? I seriously should have made you skip school and come with me, they would love you here."
"Yeah, only because I'm quiet and respectful, Mr. Best-Friends-With-Alcoholic-Finn."
"No, they would love you because I've spent most of my morning learning how to download picture software onto the new phone I got, and every single photo I have is of you. Add in the fact that I claimed you were proficient in Mandarin and chop sticks, and you've just about merited yourself a statue."
"I miss you. When are you going to be back in London? Or better yet, back home with me?"
"Ace, I thought we had this settled? You said you were going to fly out on the 10th so you could meet with your gran's lawyers and be here for Valentine's Day?"
"I know", she whined, "But I miss you and I want to see you. Pretty please?"
He laughed again. She had sunk to a new low, sounding too much like Lorelai, begging him like a little girl. "Okay, I'll make a deal with you. If you are a good girl, stop punching Finn and actually leave our apartment past 9 PM for a destination other than the library, I promise to try and attend your building dedication. I think I can swing it if I rearrange some meetings."
"Oh, please," she scoffed, "don't do me any favors. You just want to be here because you don't want to miss a primo mocking opportunity with Mom. I wouldn't put it past you to supply her with Milk Duds even after I search her purse."
"Aw, Ace, how can you have so little faith in me, your fiancé, the love of your life, the man who completes you?"
"Because he's too far away. I'm sorry, mister, my faith requires a constant presence, or at least the idea of a constant presence, which is why we pray to Juan Valdez, easily accessible and oh so tasty."
"I could interject with a dirty right there, but I'm almost too tired. I miss you, I love you, I can't wait to see you. So can I call you tomorrow or will I be interrupting a session with your Coffee God?"
"Oh, silly Logan, you know I reserve that title only for you. Okay, go get some rest, you sound exhausted. I love you, I'm very proud of you and I can't wait to see you."
He flopped on the bed facedown, using the lush comforter to stifle his tired moan. His hands felt the emptiness of the bed, and he wanted nothing more than to be able to roll over and run into Rory's knee, or elbow or any part of her. He wasn't expecting being away from her to be so hard, but it was something he couldn't shake. He woke up, went about his day, and crawled into bed every night feeling a little hollow, no matter how many times he talked to her, or looked at pictures of them. He sighed, and called the person he never thought he would reach out to for advice.
"Mitchum Huntzberger."
"Hi Dad, it's Logan."
"Logan, I thought we already discussed the Hong Kong business for today? Isn't it late over there?"
"Mitchum, I really need to talk to my dad right now, not my boss."
"Okay, well, I can try." Mitchum's tone went soft, something Logan had never heard it do before. He was a little uneasy, but he needed to talk to someone about this before his chest caved in.
"Does it get any easier?"
"What? The business? Logan, you're doing a great job over in London, and the China merger is quite impressive, especially for the new direction you're taking your paper in. Don't get depressed if one or two days seem a little harder, you love this, don't deny it, some days just need to pass."
"No, Dad, I mean, does it get any easier being away from home?"
Mitchum faltered a bit before he answered the question, his voice sounding heavy.
"I can't really tell you that. Me, I've always loved traveling, being in the middle of things, but I never really felt like I had a home to come back to. When you and your sister were younger, I would feel guilty about missing so much, but it wasn't enough to put me back on a plane. It's not like I can counsel you on this; I would rather be where the action is than sitting at home, directing things from an armchair. But, I'm not you, I don't have the kind of life you've cultivated or the kind of people you love."
Logan sighed audibly, feeling a little defeated. "I just wish that it didn't have to hurt so much." He was a little surprised at himself, showing so much vulnerability to his father. He felt like this phone call represented a huge hallmark in his previously icy relationship with his father; they were discussing important things, and he had high hopes that by opening up and trusting his father, Mitchum would treat him in kind.
"You know, you could always ask her to come with you. It's not like she needs to finish Yale."
"No!" Logan replied instantly, vehemently. "I am not asking her to not finish Yale just because I'm too immature to be away from her for so long. I couldn't do that to her, take away something she's worked so hard for. I'm supposed to support her, not crush her."
"She might not say yes, you know."
There was a trace of doubt in the back of Logan's mind, but his tongue quickly silenced it. "No, you and I both know she would do it if I asked her to. You know just as well as I do that she would willingly sacrifice herself just for me, and that's something I can't do to her. I love her and part of loving her is realizing that she needs some things for herself. I'm not going to be selfish and ask her quit Yale just so she can camp out in my hotel room while I'm in meetings."
"Okay, then I'm just going to have to speculate. You've got less than four months with her at Yale, and then she can move to London with you. I was going to tell you next time I saw you, but now's as good as any. After your year in London, I'm going to give you the choice of where you want to go. You don't have to choose anything permanently, but I would hope that you would want to move back, either to Hartford, New York, or Boston, just for your mother's sake."
"Well, I have to take Rory into account, it's not my choice, it's our choice."
"I know, and I respect that. Has she said anything to you about where she's thinking about interviewing after graduation?"
"She's mentioned it a couple of times, but more in relation to me. I'm not sure what she will want to do."
"Well, it's not like she needs to work. Plus, she could always be your assistant or something, that way she would be around for you."
"Dad! She will never be an assistant, mine or anybody else's. She's going to be whatever she wants to do, if it's being an overseas correspondent, an editor, whatever. She had a hard enough time coming back to Yale after she took that time off, and dammit, she's going to succeed."
"Well, then, if you feel so strongly about it, why don't you offer her a position at whatever paper you choose?"
"So everybody can think that she married me just to get ahead? I can't do that, Dad. I can't destroy her dreams, I'd rather her be happy than me."
"Bee, there's a solution here, one that we can find, but you're going to have to consider all sides. It's really amazing to see you act so selflessly for once in your life, you're a much better person than I am. You're going to be a much better husband, too. Now, it's late, so try to get some sleep for tomorrow's board meeting. I expect a full report."
"Thanks Mitchum, I really appreciate your time. I'll call you tomorrow."
"Logan, it's Dad. Save Mitchum for the office, okay, son?"
Surprisingly, his conversation with Mitchum alleviated his fears for the most part, but there was still a shred of doubt lingering in his mind. He couldn't ask Rory to give up her dreams for him; he didn't know if he could even find the words to pose that particular question. He was well aware that her decision to accept his proposal meant major life changes for her, a transition to a different world, but his life would generally stay the same. To him, it seemed like too big a sacrifice for her, which scared him. He needed to be sure that she really wanted this, but he didn't know how to go about retrieving his answer. He shook his head, vowing to plan a spectacular Valentine's for her, hoping to serve the dual purpose of quieting his own thoughts.
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He could hear her stomping her way to his door, angrily jabbing her key into the lock and twisting savagely. Wanting to head off a rant to end all rants, he snatched the freshly brewed pot of coffee and a mug and met her at the door.
"Leave the pot!" Her eyes were closed as her hands greedily grabbed for the handle.
"And take the cannoli?"
"Ohh, a Sofia death scene would be so awesome right now! Maybe like repeated six or seven times, until the pain in my head subsides."
"So you went to the mattresses with Gran's lawyers, huh?"
"You in a Pacino mood or something here, buddy? I am more than willing to arrange for a horse's head to appear in our bed tomorrow, if you plan on continuing your cutesy reference game."
"Says the girl who cannot complete a thought without at least one inane and usually completely obscure pop culture reference?"
"Logan. No. Mood. Gran. Awful. Stupid London." He almost grinned at the point they had reached in their relationship to effectively communicate in monosyllabic thoughts.
"So I take it the lawyers haven't shuffled around your favorite people list?"
"Ugh. No. I now hold the entirety of the law profession in disdain, including Colin. If I have to hear another stupid throat clearing or uncomfortable cough followed by the squeak of a pen twist, BTK's gonna look like a fairy tale." He rubbed her back soothingly as she gulped down mouthful after mouthful of coffee.
"What exactly about them do you hate?"
"Well, here I thought I would love lawyers, find in them kindred spirits in my pro-con list decision making skills, naively assuming that their cut and dry sense of humor would have some sort of disciplined appeal to me, but no! That's it, I'm changing my name, I never want to initial another piece of paper again in my life." He continued his languid strokes, pausing to gently knead the lowest part of her back.
"It was, oh Miss Gilmore this, and but Miss Gilmore, that's not proper, gah! It's official, this is worse than the building dedication. I want to climb into bed and bury myself under the pillows." She humphed resignedly, her small shoulders tight with a day's worth of pent-up frustration. He shifted his hands up towards her neck, threading his fingers through her tightly coiled hair, releasing the brunette waves. Twisting a strand around his finger, he gently dragged his fingertips across her scalp, feeling her settle back into him, allowing her muscles some relaxation. He loved moments like these the most, where she allowed her vulnerability to peek through and she let him know how safe she felt in his arms. He shifted his body behind her so that they were laying down, his hands still tangled in her hair. Her body seemed to melt into his chest, her head automatically finding its place by his heart. Her breathing slowly evened out, his eyes watching the rhythmic motion of her rising and falling chest. He knew the key to his happiness resided in her, and shaping his mind around that concept was no longer a foreign sensation to him. The second she said she was unhappy with anything, anything at all, he would give it up in a heartbeat so she could find her own way. He finally understood what it meant to put someone else before himself, and lying on his couch, slowly falling asleep, he never felt more grown up in his life.
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"Okay, so that's the last of everything, right? All the flowers, the stool, the guitar, it's all here, yes?"
One of the many jump suited men nodded towards Logan as they shuffled out the door.
"I really appreciate this, thank you so much. I hope she likes it." He muttered the last part to himself, but the final workman caught it on his way out of the flat. He turned to face Logan and smiled. "She will, so I would stop looking so terrified if I were you", he remarked calmingly, shaking his head as he exited. Logan glanced at his watch, checking to make sure he was still on schedule. One of the many habits of Rory, random punctuality, had benefited him enormously since they had gotten together, but today he felt constrained by the expensive timepiece adorning his wrist. Physically preventing himself from wringing his hands together, he began to absentmindedly walk the pattern of the marbled floor. He ran down the list in his head, mentally adding a check to everything already accomplished. All there was left to do was wait impatiently for the mean-spirited hands of the clock to inch their way towards seven o'clock. A swift knock on the door ended Logan's solo reverie and brought him to the task at hand. Turning the knob, he happily greeted the man standing in his foyer.
"I'm assuming you're Logan? Where would you like me?"
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He could hear her exhausted sigh the minute she stepped off the elevator, her footsteps dragging towards the apartment door. As she turned in and saw him, she smirked slightly; "Armani today? Who did you have to impress?" she said, commenting on his expertly tailored attire.
"Just you, baby."
"Impress me? You do that every day. Not that I don't like it when you get all pretty for me." She kissed his cheek and moved towards a nook to drop her bag.
"Allow me to rephrase then, I am woo-ing you. Now come on." He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to his makeshift stage.
"Wow."
He laughed, shaking his head at her. "Wow? That's it, Ace? You wound me. Seriously, wow? Nothing else to add?"
"There are no words. Oh wait, I thought of one, wow." She sighed, contently, he thought, and gently laid her fork next to her empty plate.
"So all this and only one word?"
"You got Paul McCartney to sing, no, serenade me with one of my favorite Beatles songs, nice touch, by the way, then you cook for me, all in all making this the most romantic and special day of my life, and you want a sonnet? Give me a few years to attempt to make this up to you, and maybe, just maybe, I might form a complete, coherent sentence for you."
"Who said the most romantic and special day of your life was over? There's still a present or two with your name on it."
She looked absolutely floored, her blue eyes deep with wonder and surprise.
"You got me a present, too? Logan, seriously, that wasn't necessary. I mean, you planned all this, just for me, you know what, I don't even want anything else. I just want you." She lifted her hands in slight protest, watching as he brought two wrapped boxes out from underneath the table. He laid them in front of her, nudging the largest one towards her.
"Go ahead, Ace, what kind of fiancé would I be if I didn't absolutely spoil you rotten, on this, the day of lovers?"
"Not the day of your daughter's wedding?" He chuckled at her reference.
"No, Francis Ford Coppola, jeez, just open them, will you? You make a guy nervous here."
She slowly untied the white ribbon from the sky-blue box, gracefully discarding the lid. Nestled in the white tissue paper lay a silver frame with a picture of the two of them at some black tie event or another, but it was different from every other picture she had ever seen of them. A beautiful shot from behind, she was leaning into him, crushing her ball gown against his tuxedo, her head cocked lazily towards him. His arms encircled her waist, his lips pressing against her temple, it was almost difficult to distinguish where one stopped and the other began. At the bottom of the frame, on Honor's suggestion, he had "I love you" engraved in simple script, calligraphied from his own handwriting. He watched as she traced her finger over the picture, enamored with the inscription. He found out all he needed to know from a quick glance at her eyes, awash with such a deep feeling of love, he felt his own heart skip a few beats.
"Isn't this your handwriting?"
Pleased that she recognized it, he nodded, asking her, "How did you know?"
"Come on, Huntzberger, it took me forever to learn how to decipher your chicken scratch. What, Andover didn't have a handwriting course too?"
"Nope, Viennese Waltz and How to be a Cad, but no penmanship. Besides, a distinctive style makes it much harder for the secretaries to forge your signature, duh."
"Aha! You admit it! I knew there was no way you were just a natural in the lady department. Come on, cough it up, I want to see the manual you've been consulting for all these years on how to be a cad, and I'm going to burn it and dance gleefully on the ashes."
"Ah ah ah, not so fast, you still have one more present to open, then, I swear on Chapter 27: How to escape a shot-gun toting father or butler…or boyfriend, you can foxtrot to your heart's desire over the demise of my playboy youth."
She reached for the smaller of the two packages, yet another recognizable blue with a white ribbon. She frowned confusingly, plucking a black leather cord with three letter blocks on it from the box.
"Um, Logan, this looks a little bit too big for me, don't you think?"
"Silly Rory, it's not for you, Ace, it's for me. See?" He flicked his wrist and maneuvered the blocks so that they faced her, spelling out 'ACE'.
"You mean you gave me a box, from Tiffany's, no less, with jewelry for you? Did you miss the memo or something on how Valentine's works? I mean, I thought you had grasped the concept quite well", she said, shaking her wrist with the tennis bracelet he had given her the previous February, "but apparently not."
"No, no, no, you, the woman who very nearly kicked me out of our bed for a week because I missed an incredibly obtuse and obscure Russian lit bit, missed the oh-so obvious and slightly pathetic pop culture reference of this one?"
"No, Scripps, spell it out for me, literally."
He took her hand, almost embarrassed that he had to admit to this highly emasculating gesture. "Okay, so remember the Emmys when Brad and Jen were America's golden couple, the pride and joy of the paparazzi and basically the hope for all mankind?"
"Yes, that was the year Mom decided to hold her own so that she could pretend to be Susan Lucci, although she totally mixed genres and therefore lost points."
"Right, so what did Brad have around his neck that Jennifer made for him?"
"A necklace…aw, you had so little faith in my craft abilities that you made your own sentimental keepsake and then gave it to me? You know me so well, I love you. So put it on, I want to see how it looks."
He unclasped the necklace and slipped it on, arranging it underneath his tie.
"See, this was my way of being cutesy without Colin and Finn finding out, so if you tell them, I will make it go away."
"Aw, I love my neurotic, masculinity obsessed husband. Can you grunt out what you want for dinner tomorrow night, 'cause then, well, I'll just swoon."
"Really, this is the thanks I get for tonight? You know how to make a guy feel loved."
"Oh, hush you; I have a present for you too. I must say, it is tough trying to get a present for a man who already has everything, as well as a black card that is the procurer of everything."
"Oh yeah, so what did you come up with, Miss soon to be graduate of the finest university of the world?"
"Something you never knew how much you missed it until it was gone."
With that, she pulled out her own box, slid it towards him, and sat back to watch the show. He pulled off the wrapping paper to reveal a kit labeled "Home Away From Home": Rory had assembled bits and pieces from their lives to cobble together something he could always take with him. There was a little suit of armor and a travel pool table with magnetic balls and sticks, a fifth of the scotch he kept a large supply of at their apartment in New Haven, a small pillow that he knew was sprayed with a little bit of her perfume, a faded Yale tee shirt, much like the one she loved to steal to sleep in, and a miniature jail cell with Colin and Finn's faces plastered on the dolls inside. He was touched to see how much thought she had put into her gift, and how it was perfect; she knew exactly what he wanted more than anything. He loved that she understood him, anticipated things he never would have even thought about for himself, but somehow she knew. All he could do was pull her towards him and kiss her.
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He could feel her shift slightly against his body, and instantly, he was awake. He knew that when she was lost in thought and having trouble sleeping, she twisted and turned, as if settling into a groove in their bed would calm her mind. He brought his hand up to gently stroke her hair.
"What's on your mind, Ace?"
"Oh, Logan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep. I'm really sleepy…" She trailed off, ending her sentence with an exaggerated yawn.
"Well, Ace, with that performance, I think you stole the Razzie from Halle Berry. Now, what's on your mind?"
She rolled over so that their faces were level, her bright eyes standing out in the semi-darkness of the bedroom. She bit her lip before speaking, a sign that she was nervous.
"Do you ever have doubts about this? Like we're rushing it, or we're too young, that we should wait until we're older?"
"Truthfully, yes, I have had my doubts. I actually called Finn one morning in a blind panic about it, but he asked me a question that settled it for me."
"Finn, providing you with advice, this ought to be good."
"Finn is allowed his sagacious moments, although they are few and far between. He asked me who I saw myself waking up next to every morning."
"So what did you say?"
"I told him I liked remembering waking up with you sprawled out all over me, thus preventing any movement from me unless it is to get you coffee."
"Ask me." He was puzzled as to what question she was hinting at from him.
"Ask you what? I thought I was off the hook with the asking of the important questions since I basically set this whole thing in motion with one of them?"
"Ask me who I see myself waking up next to every morning."
"I'm going to go out on a limb and call this redundant, but okay, Ace, who do you see yourself waking up next to every morning?"
"I see myself making eye contact with you over the top of our son's head, since he somehow managed to worm his way between us during the thunderstorm that scared him. I see myself waking up when you slip into bed after a late business meeting, even though you try not to disturb me, you should know that I can't sleep very well unless you're next to me. I see myself kicking my adorable lump of a husband to make some coffee since he has rightfully earned his nickname of the Coffee God. That's who I see myself waking up to." He was truly amazed by her admission, although it didn't take much for her to surprise him. The simple, pure goodness that radiated from her, well, he felt incredibly blessed to have her light shine on him, even if for the briefest of moments.
"So does that clear up your doubts?" He gently nudged her, tweaking her nose with a light fingertip touch.
"It's always been you, Logan, the doubts were never about that. Do you think we're too young? I mean, should we wait until we're older, have more of a plan, establish our careers, something like that?"
"Rory, yes, I called you Rory because I want to be serious for a moment here, what I have learned in my experience with following 'plans' is that they rarely lead where I really want to go. Deviation is what makes everything worth it, Ror. Think about it. Was I part of your plan? Were you part of mine? Will getting married at a younger age mean that neither of us will achieve what we want, or that it will limit us in some way? With you, I know I can achieve more than I ever thought possible, even with my 'plan'. Tell me something; what was the jump with me?"
"One of the best moments of my life."
"Was it planned out? Carefully plotted along your course?"
"Okay, I get it. The best things happen when spontaneity and impulsiveness rule our heads, enabling us to lead with our hearts."
"Oh, you so totally were cheating on me with a Hallmark writer, but he probably got fired for such a sappy line."
"Who ever said it was a he? Goodnight Logan, I love you, forever and for always." She burrowed deeper into her pillow, maneuvered her way farther into Logan's embrace and sighed happily. He, however, was fully awake, musing on the recent realizations their conversation had brought to mind.
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He strolled into his living room in time to catch a one-sided conversation between Rory and someone, most likely Lorelai, given the amount of gesturing and rapid conversational pace.
"So then, he pulls me out of the corner and towards this stage where Paul McCartney was just sitting there, like he's used to hanging out in people's living rooms…yes, Mom, I know, nobody puts Baby in the corner….no, you can't find a Road House reference to use there…Mom, my story, okay? Now can I finish telling it? Yes, he got Paul to sing 'Maybe I'm Amazed', no, I don't find Guns and Roses particularly romantic, I don't care if it was post-op for Axel, anyone who opens with 'Welcome to the Jungle' is not meant for Valentine's, yes, I agree with you, they would work at Ozzfest, no, stop doing your impersonation, no, I can't be Kelly, Logan won't let me speak in a British accent, he says it's embarrassing to the entire island, what, okay, love you and call you later after I'm done with Logan, ew Mom! Dirty! Okay, bye!" She slumped against the cushions, tossing her phone besides her.
"What are you doing, Ace?" She cocked her head to look at him, lazily peering out the side of one eye.
"Trying to decide if you are worth all the sexual innuendos my mother managed to throw into our arguably too-long conversation, and so far, bucko, it's not looking too good."
He smiled, then headed towards the arm of the couch, perching near where her feet lay. "How about I throw in a yacht? Does that sweeten the pot for you?"
"Well, Bob, I'd have to say, toss in a washer-dryer combo and you've got yourself a deal."
He gracefully landed besides her on the couch, simultaneously pulling her closer to him. "Consider those household appliances yours, darling."