(Noah)

Elle has her plate balanced atop her belly as she reclines on one of the deck chairs and I wonder how much trouble I'd be in if I photographed this achievement of hers for posterity. I've been filling her in on the party shenanigans she missed after her early bedtime and I wouldn't mind starting every day like this. Just the two of us on the balcony, a lazy breakfast, Elle laughing, and nothing in particular on our agenda for the day. Well, nothing except for my plans for this evening, but there's plenty of time until then, and Elle doesn't yet know about those.

Elle's grumbling about all the comments she got last night about looking ready to pop, and I'm about to remind her that those folks are well-meaning but clueless when her next comment stops me cold.

"But at least no one's joking about shotgun weddings anymore, or fishing for details about our plans. I guess with my due date so close they've finally accepted that's not happening. So that's a relief."

She says it so emphatically that I can't help but stare at her, trying to decipher her expression. I know jokes like that and wedding nagging in general have driven her crazy all spring, but there's something about the way she said it. How definitive she was that it's not happening. But what she's saying isn't necessarily worrisome, isn't unreasonable, I tell myself. She's saying a wedding isn't happening before Dinah shows up, and with just five weeks to go she's probably right on that point. She's not saying a wedding is never happening, or that we shouldn't talk about a wedding yet.

At least, I hope not. Something about how she said it, the relief evident in her voice and expression, does make me wonder. Just a little.

"Yeah, a real relief," I finally respond.

I tell myself I'm reading too much into so casual a comment. Elle's just reacting negatively to others meddling in our business, and being relieved they've stopped, not discussing her own feelings about marriage. Nothing about Elle these last few weeks has suggested she's anything but confident about us and our future. She's made offhand references to where we might live next, if she decides to go to grad school. She's joked about the look on Principal Morin's face when we show up for Dinah's first day of school. God, she even once commented that she hoped the next one would be a boy. Sure, she was half asleep and joking about something, but still. I've spent the last few weeks trying to find the right occasion, the appropriate setting, but I'd never doubted we were ready. Until now.

"Come on, we should get going. We've got a lot of unpacking to do." I extend a hand to help her up, and while the habit isn't new, she actually needs the help these days, though it's best never to acknowledge that.

Elle's comment keeps echoing in my head as I gather yesterday's clothes and the few things I'd brought to stay overnight. It may not have been meant as it sounded, but it's also not particularly encouraging.

I don't have to propose tonight, I remind myself. If Elle doesn't seem to be in the right frame of mind, I could put it off. But today feels meaningful. It's been a week of celebrations and transitions—Elle's birthday, our anniversary, Elle's graduation, my move to LA. It's the start of a new chapter, and the timing had finally felt right. Even if there isn't time left to plan a wedding before Dinah shows up, I still want Elle to know that's what I want. Where I want us to be next year, and all the years after that. I want her to know just how long I've wanted this, just how long I've known she is it for me.

I don't have to decide yet. I don't even have to decide when we go out tonight. The plans I'd had in mind, they don't have to lead to a proposal. They could just be... a nice evening. So I'll play it by ear. See how the day goes, see if Elle says anything else alarming or encouraging. In the end, it's going to be a leap of faith no matter when I do it.

I realize as I'm hanging Elle's dress from last night in the back of the car that my blazer must still be in my room; I'd ditched it once the old folks started leaving and the party turned casual. I definitely need it back—not the blazer itself, but the contents of its inner pocket. It was probably foolish to have brought the ring along yesterday, especially given my plans for tonight, but I don't know, I guess I wanted that option, if the moment had suddenly presented itself.

I jog back upstairs to grab the blazer along with the last of our things, then stop short at the door to my room. Elle is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, my blazer in one hand and the ring box in the other.

Suddenly it's obvious what's happened, and I have no idea what to do next. The box is still closed, but from Elle's stillness as she stares at it I have no doubt she knows what's inside. I also realize from her stillness that she may not have heard me come back upstairs, may not realize I'm at the door, witnessing this.

I could back away silently, then more noisily walk down the hall, say something to alert her that I'm back upstairs before I walk in the room. See what she does. See whether she slips the ring back into the blazer and hands it to me without comment. Pretend I don't know she's seen it. Go about our day as planned and decide later whether to go ahead with tonight's plans or wait. Except now I can't put it off, I realize. If her earlier comment meant anything even close to its worst possible interpretation, I can't let Elle wait and worry what my plans are now that she knows there's a ring. We have to talk, no matter how difficult the conversation might turn out.

Or maybe she'll surprise me. Maybe I'll walk into my room and she'll beat me to the punch. Proposing to me with the ring I'd bought her would be an incredibly Shelly stunt and one she is more than welcome to pull, no matter what plans I might have had for tonight. But that assumes she wants to. That assumes she isn't sitting there quietly panicking. And that's the worst case scenario, the quiet panic, the spiraling shutdown, the imminent disappearance, which is why I have to acknowledge this, have to let her know I know.

"Elle?" I say softly, stepping into the room.

Her head whips around, and her startled expression confirms she'd had no idea I was standing there.

I sit myself next to her on the floor. "So, you found it."

"The blazer—it fell out when I picked it up." She's still staring at the box in her hand as she says it, her voice small.

"I figured."

"Was that—for last night? Were you going —"

"No. I mean, I wasn't planning on it. Not last night."

"So... why?" She's still not looking at me.

"I was planning on it—when the time felt right. And I didn't think that would be last night, but I wanted the option."

"And tonight's plans? Was that still birthday stuff, or..."

I'd had a plan. There were things I wanted to say first, places I wanted to go with her. But it doesn't look like tonight will be going according to plan and I don't want to lie.

"I was thinking the time might be right, yeah. I mean, our anniversary and your birthday and graduation and us moving in—it's a big week. A new start. So it seemed fitting."

And maybe this is the moment. We're talking about it. The ring is in her hand. Well, not the ring itself, but we both know what's in that box. The question is floating between us as clearly as if I'd actually spoken the words. To back away now, to wait for some perfectly-planned scenario, would be absurd. So as loud as the alarm bells are in my head, so too is the voice that says to seize the moment and take the leap.

Except all of a sudden I have no idea what to do. Like, logistically. Physically. I hadn't actually thought through this part, just figured it would all make sense in the moment. I never imagined we'd be sitting on the floor of my old room, not quite facing each other, bags slung over both our shoulders because we'd been on our way out the door. Do I... kneel? Except she's sitting. So then I'd be looming over her, and isn't it supposed to be the other way around? That, and she's holding the ring. Do I need to retrieve it from her?

The hilarity of letting myself be fazed by such meaningless details hits me and I laugh softly, putting my bag down and sitting up a bit. I guess I just ask, that's really all there is to it.

But as I take a breath and look up at her, I see understanding flash through her eyes. Understanding and alarm, and the hand she'd had holding my blazer flies forward to grip my arm.

"Noah... please don't. Not right now. Not like this."

There's panic in her eyes as she scrambles to stand up, and shit, this is the worst case scenario.

"Elle?"

She looks at the box in her hand, as though suddenly remembering its presence, and the box falls to my desk as her hand startles open. I stand up too. I'm not sure what to do, but I know I can't let her run away. Not that I could stop her, but I need her not to want to. I step back to sit on the edge of my bed and I reach for her hand.

"Shell—please don't go. I'm not sure what just happened but please stay. Sit. Whatever just happened, we need to talk about it."

I can see her take a deep breath, then relax a fraction. She lets her bag slide off her shoulder, then walks over to me. I'd hoped she'd come sit next to me, and I'd have gladly settled for anywhere in this room she decided to be, as long as she didn't leave. Instead she walks over and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my shoulder. This has to be a good sign, I tell myself, and I scoop her up and scoot us further back on the bed, until she's sitting across my lap, her arms wrapped almost painfully tightly around me.

"I'm not panicking. I promise, this isn't me freaking out." She's whispering, but with her face buried against my neck I hear and feel her every word like a declaration. "And I'm not going anywhere, at least not without you. But I am asking you not to do this. Not today."

I have no idea what to say. Except— "Why, Elle? Why not?"

"Because I'm not ready. Because this isn't how it was supposed to be. Not how I want it to be."

"How? Elle, I'm trying to understand, but you've got to explain it to me." She's wrapped around me and she's telling me she's not going anywhere, but she's also reacting like the future I want for us terrifies her.

"There's too much going on right now. I feel out of control. I've been running to keep up for so long, running to react to events out of my control. And I know I have to just deal with it, I know we've both had to. This baby's showing up whether we're ready or not, so we'd better bust our asses to get ready. But that's not how I wanted us to make this decision."

"You know this isn't because you're pregnant, Elle. You must know that. I've wanted this for a long time. For years."

"You think I haven't? I mean, you—you're the only part of this that's how it was supposed to be. And I don't mean that I had some ridiculous proposal expectations. I could care less about that. But I wanted it to... feel right, I guess. This whole year has been reacting and figuring out how to adapt, and that's not how I want to make this decision. I want it to be when I feel like myself. In control. When there aren't a million pressures on us. I never want to doubt that it was for the right reasons."

I struggle not to let my frustration show. Does she think this is all exactly how I wanted things? That my dream was for us to finally let ourselves try again after two years, only to make a flaming mess of things? To discover that Elle is pregnant and have to wonder whether it could actually be mine if no one has bothered to tell me? To realize how much time we've lost because I couldn't see past my hurt feelings? Yeah, it would be simpler if Elle weren't pregnant and we'd been back together longer. But that's not where we are, and I'm not going to give up on the destination because we hit some detours on the way.

I'm still trying to find the words to say any of that without making things worse when Elle sits up, meeting my eyes briefly before taking my hands and interlacing our fingers.

"Noah, I could never say no. I need you to know that. That if you asked, I'd say yes. There's no universe in which I could ever say no, no matter how unready I feel. But I am asking you not to ask me. Not yet, because this isn't how I want to say yes. Not now. Not like this."

I let out a long, frustrated breath before answering. "How is telling me you'd say yes different than... saying yes? If you know that, if you're telling me that—what is there left to be unsure about?"

"It just is different. It matters when we decide this, and why. It matters to me."

"Is it... all the wedding stuff you don't want to deal with yet? Because we can put that off. We can get through whatever chaos is about to unleash in our lives first, and get married later. God, we don't even have to tell anyone. This has nothing to do with what other people expect from us, Elle. I just... want to. But not if you don't want to. But I just don't understand."

Elle lets out a short, mirthless laugh.

"Getting married before Dinah's born is the entire reason I would say yes. I mean, you're the reason I could never say no, but she'd be the reason to say yes rather than beg you not to ask yet. But you're also the reason I want this to be right. I know all the things that would be easier, smoother, simpler if we got married right now. So I realize I'm being completely irresponsible. I realize I'm putting ridiculous emotional hang-ups ahead of practicality. But I have wanted this for too damn long to do it wrong." Her voice cracks as she struggles to get that last sentence out, and I can see her eyes fill with tears before she buries her face in my neck again.

I still don't understand, so I focus on the encouraging parts.

"You've wanted this?"

"Yeah. Of course. I mean... I wasn't ready to make that decision, but I didn't think I had to. I couldn't see a future without you, but I thought we had time. A lot more time. But when the question actually came up, it was just too soon. With too much else going on."

"When it came up? When has it ever come up?"

Elle raises her head to look at me. "You don't remember? I guess that answers the question of whether you were serious or just trying to win an argument."

There's bitterness in her voice, and I'm so confused. And then I realize. It's not that I'd forgotten, it's that I didn't ever think she'd taken it seriously.

"Our fight before I went back to Boston. When you didn't want me to stay."

"Yeah. Was that real, that proposal? Did you actually think you meant it, or were you just trying to prove a point? Trying to convince me you should stay?"

"I said it for the wrong reasons, and I said it rashly, but I meant it. You were acting like me staying was so absurd. Like you couldn't possibly imagine why I'd put college on hold for you. And then you said that thing about how we weren't actually married, and I don't know, I reacted without really thinking about it. Because if that was your reason why I shouldn't stay, god, that was an easy one to fix. I wasn't trying to prove a point. And I also wasn't thinking particularly rationally. I just... said it. Because it made sense in that moment. It wasn't serious but it also wasn't not. I didn't not mean it. I wanted to. I already knew that, I'd figured that out that summer. I wouldn't have said it if it hadn't already been on my mind. It had nothing to do with the accident and wanting to stay. I mean, of course it did, but that's not why I said it. I wanted to stay for the same reasons I wanted to marry you. That's why staying would have been easy."

Elle stares at me a long time before shaking her head ruefully. "God, we fucked up."

"I did. You didn't. You had too much to deal with already and I couldn't see it. I made it worse. I mean, just because I meant it didn't make marry me the right thing to say. I should have seen that. I should never have gotten offended at your entirely rational reaction to my completely irrational proposal."

Elle squeezes my hands hard. "Okay, stop. We've already had this conversation. We said we were done with it, and I want to still be done with it."

Elle lets go of my hands and slides herself off my lap, standing before me again. She's got that look she gets when she's had enough of a topic, when she needs to be done talking. She leans forward to give me a hard, lingering kiss, then pulls back to look at me.

"I know what you're thinking. That this is me panicking. That this is me not wanting to think about the future, not being able to trust, running away. I promise you it's not. I love you. I'm not going anywhere. I know what I want. I want you, and I want to be with you. But I also want—I need—to not give up this one thing. I need this one decision not to be tangled up in all this. And right now it's not, it can't be. So I am asking you, please, not to ask me right now. Not because I don't want to. Because I don't want to like this."

It still makes no sense. I still don't understand it. But I know Elle. I can tell she's being painfully honest. I can see how difficult telling me this was, and I know she wouldn't if this weren't important to her. And she's admitted she wouldn't say no, couldn't, no matter how unready she feels. I can't abuse that. No matter how little sense this makes to me, no matter how frustrated I am, I can't ask her when I know she'd be forcing herself to ignore her instincts. The fact that she'd do that if she had to, that she'd do it for me, for us, is why I can't do it to her. Even if I don't understand this, I trust her.

"Okay." I'm not sure what else to say. "If this isn't the right time for you, then it's not the right time for us. Consider the subject dropped, until you tell me it's not."

I cringe at how harsh it sounds once I've said it. I'm not sure how to make it not. I can't pretend this thrills me. I can't pretend this is how I'd hoped today would play out. I watch as Elle retrieves her bag, then waits by the door as I grab my own things. I awkwardly pocket the ring box on my way out of the room and we make our way to the car in silence.

Why is it always here that our worst moments happen, somehow? Lee finding out, and then that fight. Elle storming out of my room when I wouldn't drop the Stanford subject. That disastrous unexpected fight after her dad's accident. And then that even more disastrous fight by the pool, last fall. Maybe we should never set foot in this house again.

Except it's not like all the other times, because this time we leave the house together. We haven't said a word since leaving my room, and it's painfully awkward, but we're together. I'm not on my bike desperate to put as many miles between me and Elle and Lee as possible. Elle's not slamming my door on her way out of the house, or mutely gathering her things while I stare at anything but her. I'm not rashly taking off to the airport mid-fight. We're together, and we're going home, to our home. And this wasn't a fight. It was weird and awful and frustrating, but it wasn't a fight. She didn't say no. She all but said yes. Just not now, and I have to respect that even if it makes no goddamn sense.

The agonizing silence endures as I drive us home, as we ride the elevator to our floor, as we walk down the hall to our door, as we put away yesterday's clothes and the few other things we'd brought for the overnight. As I hang up my blazer, I realize there's one last thing I need to say. One coda to this whole painful discussion before we table it for however long it's going to be. I retrieve the ring box from the pocket I'd stuffed it in on our way out of my room, and I reach for Elle's hand to get her attention, not wanting to startle her after going without words for so long.

"I want you to know where I'm putting this. Here, in the top drawer of my dresser. And it's going to stay there until you tell me otherwise. No surprises. No worrying whether I'm planning to. Which means you're going to have to tell me, once you're ready. I have as little interest in hearing you say no, or put me off again, as I know you do in saying it. So it's up to you."

"Are you saying I have to propose?" Elle seems to laugh despite herself, although her tone is hollow.

"Not quite. I mean, if you want to, go ahead. Any path that gets us engaged is fine with me. But what I meant is that I'm dropping the marriage topic. Entirely, until you let me know it's okay to bring it up. And I'm not saying you need to have it all figured out, to have your mind made up. Just... when you're ready to talk about it again, let me know."

"Okay." Elle nods slightly after a long pause. "Thank you. I know this doesn't make sense. I wish I could explain it better. I wish I could not feel it. But thank you for trusting me."

Yeah, well, I'm not sure what choice I have. I could propose, and forever know I made her say yes when she wasn't ready. Or I guess I could break up with her. Neither of those options is remotely acceptable. And so I'll wait.

A/N: C'mon, you had to know it wasn't going to be that easy. I promised many (many, many) chapters ago I wouldn't break them up again, but I never said it would be easy. And did I mention we're getting into the chapters I've been looking forward to for months?