"I wanna marry you," Rich Halke announces from the armchair.
From her seat on the couch, Dana Foster looks up from her textbook and fixes her boyfriend with a bewildered stare. "Excuse me?"
"I wanna marry you," Rich repeats, setting his own textbook down. "And not for the sex."
She raises her eyebrows and smirks disbelievingly at him.
"Okay, okay, obviously I'm looking forward to that," he admits. "But I mean, come on." He looks around to make sure her parents aren't entering the living room. "Technically don't need to be married for that, right?"
"Technically not…."
"Don't get me wrong; I'm sure it'll be well worth the wait. But it's not the reason I want to marry you."
Dana slowly closes her book. "Where is this coming from?"
"Just…sitting here, watching you sitting there…." He shrugs. "That'd be the view I wanted for the rest of my life, even if I were paralyzed from the waist down."
She grins. "That was both romantic and a little creepy."
"Me in a nutshell." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "We don't usually talk about this when we aren't high on hormones, but I want to talk about it when you know I want to marry you for more than that yummy spot on your neck."
"Which might not be so yummy when we're in our eighties."
"Not so sure about that. But either way, I'll still want to be with you."
A flash of hesitancy crosses her face. "Really?"
"Absolutely. You're smart and thoughtful and passionate about doing good things in the world. That's a life I want to be part of."
"Well, you're funny and patient and the most supportive person I've ever known, and I don't want a life without you in it."
"Deal."
"Deal." Her smile falls away. "We didn't just get engaged, right?"
Rich laughs. "Not yet. Which reminds me: I know strong women can propose on their own, but may I please have the honor of the actual proposal?"
She sighs. "I guess."
"Your enthusiasm is yet another thing I love about you."
"It's not that. I just…had some ideas of my own."
"Rock, paper, scissors for it?"
"You're not serious?"
He holds up his right fist, sitting on his left palm. "When am I not serious?" His eyes sparkle with mirth, and something deeper: a joy and pride she wants to see again and again.
She smiles and covers his fist with her hand. "No," she decides. "I want you to do it, Rich."
"Now?"
"Not now. Preferably not ever in my parents' house surrounded by Lilly's toys and Karen's beauty magazines."
Rich takes her hands in his. "Somewhere great. I promise. How soon?"
"Well, we're almost done with college, but then there will be law school, and internships, and clerking, so maybe.…"
"See, those all sound like reasons to get married sooner, instead of later."
"How do you figure?" Dana asks.
"You're going to need a house husband so you don't get takeout every night and collapse in a pile of dirty laundry when you're ready to sleep."
"I won't be able to support you staying at home while I'm in law school."
"No, but with your grades, you'll probably get one of those fellowship things…"
"You know what a fellowship is? That is so attractive." She leans toward him.
Rich holds up a finger. "Don't distract me, you temptress."
She nods in mock meekness and retreats.
"Like I was saying, you'll probably get a fellowship, which will help cover some expenses, and then I can get a 9-to-5 job that doesn't require me to deal with any briefs in the evening besides the kind in the laundry."
Dana sits up straighter. "You're offering to put me through law school?"
"Offering to keep you clothed and fed and sane through one of the most hectic times of your life? I am."
She smiles. "Sanity. I hadn't even thought about that."
"And you wouldn't, and you'd wear yourself out," says Rich, massaging her hand. "Obviously I don't want you to feel pushed into marrying me, but if you can see your way to trusting me to have your best interests at heart, I'd rather marry you before you start law school."
"That could mean years of me not able to do much for you."
"It's okay that you'll need me around. I kinda like that part."
"What if I get super frustrated and take it out on you?"
Rich looks past her. "I'd say we've done that already, and I know how to deal with it now."
Her expression turns apologetic. "You do, don't you?"
He catches her eye again. "I do."
"I do," she repeats. "It has a nice…ring to it."
He traces a circle at the base of her left ring finger.
"So what do you say to my proposed proposal?"
She bites her lip and squeezes his hands, then nods emphatically. "Soon."
He swiftly transitions from the armchair to the couch, the better to throw his arms around her. "Better start learning how to cook."
"What?!"
"No, no, I mean me! My lady won't make it through law school on bologna sandwiches." He brings her hand to his lips in a gallant gesture.
"We could take a cooking class together this summer."
"We could, future Mrs. Halke."
"Let's do it, future Mr. Foster."
"Foster-Halke," he offers. "Hyphenated alphabetically."
"Deal."
"Kiss me. Who knows how many days are left to kiss me as your boyfriend?"
(As it turns out, the answer is three.)
