February 15, 2021

The day after the grand re-opening of Rebetzel's was quiet. The event left both Nathaniel and Rebecca exhausted, leaving no energy for anything other than a good night's sleep. Knowing they both had to work the next day, they mutually decided to spend the night separately at their own apartments.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Nathaniel fell into a deep sleep and didn't stir until his Monday morning alarm rang out. He goes through the motions of his morning routine automatically, replaying the memories of the previous night in his head. He had been nervous about bringing her keyboard, unsure whether her response would be to jump for joy or smack him. When she performed, with her voice full of emotion and her happiness shining through her, he knew he made the right choice.

He knows her song wasn't entirely about him, but he couldn't help the warmth he felt while recalling the lyrics. She articulated his own thoughts so much better than he ever could. Being with her feels like coming home.

It wasn't always this way. When they were having the affair, it felt like anything but. Their relationship was all secrecy and anticipation. It was a continual heightened state of excitement. It was a cat-and-mouse game. At any moment, they could be caught in the act. At any moment, Rebecca could slip away through his fingers, decide she was done with the sex, decide she was done with him, and he would have no retribution. At times, he felt like she belonged to him and yet he knew he was alway one breath away from losing her. It was thrilling but exhausting.

Their friendship was the fresh start they both needed. Without consciously realizing it, they slowly built a new foundation for a better, healthier romantic relationship. Now, when he has butterflies in his stomach, it's not about pining away for someone he can't have or the constant worry that his feelings may not be reciprocated. When he sees her now, the butterflies in his stomach are all about his love for her and seeing that love reflected back at him.

He goes to work with a spring in his step, still buoyed from the memory of the previous night. He pauses in the lobby before getting in the elevator, saddened by the sight of the emptiness where Rebetzel's used to operate. Soon it will be transformed into some other business, none of which will bring him the same joy as seeing Rebecca's smiling face at the counter. Without a built-in opportunity to see her each day, he knows he has to be more intentional about making time to see her.

Over his lunch break, he calls Rebecca.

"Hey," she answers.

"Hi."

"What's up?" she asks, all business. Her voice is dampened by background noise, and he gathers that she may be working in the Rebetzel's kitchen.

"I just, um, wanted to see how your second day is going."

"You miss me already?" she asks. He can hear her teasing smile through the phone.

Could he be any more transparent? He clears his throat and switches gears. "It's Monday and you know what that means."

Distracted, not catching on, Rebecca says, "Huh?"

"It will be the most dramatic night of our lives."

"Oh!" she says, realizing that he has fallen back into their old Monday banter, back when they were just friends and ritually watch The Bachelor every Monday night. Except back when they used this well-worn repartee, she was always the one prompting the exchange and he was pretending to be exasperated by the suggestion.

He decides to drop the edifice. "Do you want to come over after work?

"Sure, sweetie. I'll see you later."

"OK, how about –" he starts, then realizes she already ended the call.

Later, when he's back at his apartment, he wonders whether she will remember to come over with how busy and preoccupied she sounded when he called. He changes into a t-shirt and sweatpants and prepares a plate of hummus and veggies to snack on. Even if she doesn't come over, he'll still watch the show. If only for nostalgia's sake.

Five minutes before the show begins, there is a knock at the door that can only be Rebecca's. Surprisingly, Rebecca is dressed in sweats herself with a bottle of wine in her hand. For a moment, it feels like he's warped through time back when they did this weekly, back when they were still learning to be comfortable around one another.

A huge grin graces his face and, once again, he is so transparent it's sickening.

"What? You think I'd pass up a chance to watch with you again?" she said with a laugh, brushing past him and flopping onto his couch.

She adds, "Last time we did this, your hands ended up down my pants. Now I can't watch it without getting horny."

He laughs and takes the bottle of wine from her hands, walking to the kitchen to open it.

"How was the second day at the new digs?" he asks as he pours the wine.

"There are kinks to work out, but it was good," she says. "It feels different now, having a real location. In a good way."

As Nathaniel settles on the couch beside her, setting the two wine glasses down, Rebecca breaks a baby carrot into two pieces. She throws it into the air and swerves to catch it in her mouth. Instead, it hits her cheek and ricochets onto his rug. She quickly picks it up from the ground and sneaks a glance at Nathaniel before popping it into her mouth.

"Five second rule," she says while chewing.

"Gross."

The show begins, but he's not actually interested in whatever storyline he's jumping into mid-season with no context. He puts his arm around the back of the couch behind her and shifts to face her. "We didn't really get a chance to talk after."

"After?"

"After your song."

"Oh," Rebecca says softly, suddenly shy. "What did you think?" she asks, her eyes sneaking a glance at his face and then dropping to her hands.

"I loved it."

She looks up at him with a nervous smile. "Really? It wasn't . . . too much?"

"Too much?" he replies, surprised by her question. "What? No."

"Good," she sighs. "What you did for me yesterday . . . I hope you know it means the world to me."

He nods. "Do you really want to host open mics now at Rebetzel's?"

"I think I do," she says thoughtfully. "I know it'll be extra hours of work for me, but it feels right."

She pauses, opens her mouth to say something, but then snaps it shut.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing, never mind," she says.

"What is it?"

"It's really silly, but . . ." She stops and licks her lips, contemplating her next words. She's gearing up to say something difficult. Nathaniel picks up the remote and mutes the television.

She starts again, "You know what's crazy?"

"What?" he prods again.

"Last night, when you were on stage, for a second I thought you were . . ." she trails off.

His interest is piqued. "You thought I was –" he prompts.

"You were making this speech and you kept touching your pocket," she says, mimicking patting her invisible pants pocket.

He's still at a loss and shrugs.

She cups her forehead and says, "God, this is embarrassing. And stupid. I thought maybe you were . . . proposing."

His eyes go wide. Now that is not what he expected. He tries to keep a straight face, but he's temporarily stunned.

She starts to ramble. "I don't know. It was the twinkle lights and the speech. The whole night, really. I told you, it was dumb for me to assume. I don't know what I was thinking."

His heart races. All at once he's thrilled at the thought that she might want him to propose to her, worried that he's let her down by not doing so, and scared that it is too soon for such a big step.

"Oh," he says, feigning a neutral tone.

"Sorry," she says, putting her hand on his knee, "I shouldn't have even brought it up."

Finally his brain stops spinning and he realizes that, yes, in retrospect, it could be construed as a set-up for a proposal. Everyone knows she loves a grand gesture. Between the ambience and the speech and, yes, hiding something in his pocket, it's not a crazy thought at all.

"It's not stupid," he says slowly. "Thinking back on it, I can see why you might have thought that. Is that . . . is that what you wanted? Did I disappoint you?"

"No," she says with a laugh, "absolutely not, Not at all. I mean, it's not that I don't want it, necessarily. So maybe yes? Or . . . I don't know."

Her lack of clarity is a little unnerving. They've accidentally stumbled upon a very serious conversation.

She goes on, "Like, theoretically, yes, because it was a romantic moment, my rom-com indoctrinated, impulsive brain kind of wanted it."

"But –" he says, leading her to the qualifying statement he knows is coming.

"But my logical, sensible brain knows that maybe . . . we're not ready," she says quietly. "I'm not ready."

He pauses to think it through. If there's one thing he knows, it's that he wants to be all in with her. He has no doubts about that. However, their misunderstanding on Christmas Eve was a wake-up call for both of them. Perhaps it was one they needed. Though they've made large strides toward a healthy relationship, they still have a lot to learn and a long way to grow together.

"I think you're right," he finally says.

Her face falls. It's a no-win proposition. Each of their inner ids wants to satisfy the urge to leap ahead, but they both know it's way too soon.

"But –" he says gently, tucking a strand of hair around her ear, "I think someday we will be."

"Yeah?"

He nods and kisses her.

After the kiss, she rests her forehead against his and confesses in a whisper, "I've never been in love like this."

His stomach flutters. "Me too," he says with reverence. He presses a kiss to her forehead, then pulls away. "I'm not going anywhere. I've got all the time in the world."

"Me too," she says. She glances toward his bedroom, specifically at the closet where the engagement ring is locked away in his safe. He didn't change the passcode, even after the incident on Christmas Eve. He's certain she wanted that little peek to go unnoticed, but, unfortunately for her, he knows her way too well.

"That's not going anywhere either," he jokes.

She chuckles, embarrassed.

"Dr. Akopian taught me this little trick. When you're not sure about a decision, even if it's a big one, flip a coin. How you feel about the outcome will tell you what you truly wanted deep down. Yesterday, when I did think you were proposing, I felt anxious. Panicked, even. A big part of that, I think, is what happened with Josh. But even so, I realize I'm not ready for that quite yet."

He understands exactly what she means. "Well, when we are ready, we'll talk about it first. You'll know it's coming."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't worry. It will still be a surprise. I will plan something ridiculously over-the-top romantic and emotional."

"Oh really?"

"And I will get down on one knee," he says in a low voice, taking her hand, "and finally give you the ring that has been yours for years. I don't care if it's next month or next year or when we're sixty. Like I said, I'm not going anywhere. Not without you."

Rebecca has tears in her eyes. "Well, hopefully not when we're sixty," she says with a laugh.

"No, hopefully not," he agrees and kisses her.

When they pull away, The Bachelor has ended and segued into next week's preview. Rebecca sighs, "I guess I should go."

"No," he groans. As she stands up, he lightly grabs her forearm. "Don't leave."

"I don't want to have to get up at the crack of dawn for a walk of shame," she quips, untangling herself from his grasp.

He sighs, wishing it weren't true, wishing that he could wake up with her every morning, work or not.

He suddenly stands from the couch and blurts out, "Move in with me?"

That stops Rebecca in her tracks. She turns around and walks back toward him, a stunned look on her face. "What?"

"AJ is moving out when your lease is up. You need to find a new roommate or get your own place. Why not move in here with me?"

Rebecca looks around the apartment and jokes, "This is a total bachelor pad. Your kitchen is basically non-existent. How would I fit in exactly?"

"So we find a new place," he suggests. "What do you think?"

Rebecca raises both her eyebrows and searches his face.

"I'm serious," he adds, in case there was any doubt.

After a contemplative pause, she says, "Can I think about it?"

"Of course. Whatever you need."

She hikes up on her tiptoes and kisses his cheek. As she leaves his apartment, there is a soft smile on her face.

Five Years Later

February 14, 2026

"Do you think she's mad?" Rebecca asks from the bathroom, wrapped in a cotton robe, putting a pair of diamond stud earrings in her ears. She's already finished her makeup for the day, a little heavier than usual with a stunning red lip.

The bathroom is modern-looking, with a double vanity and shower stall with stylish gray tile.

"Who?" Nathaniel asks, standing in front of a bedroom closet nearby, his suits lined up like soldiers all in a row.

"Your mother," she answers, walking out of the bathroom and pulling an ivory dress on a hanger out of an adjacent section of the closet.

Nathaniel shrugs on a charcoal gray suit jacket. "Why would she throw us a party if she was mad?"

"Trust me, my mother has thrown plenty of parties out of spite."

Nathaniel cocks his head while tightening the knot of his champagne-colored tie. "I'm just glad my father isn't alive to give me a lecture about it."

Rebecca chuckles as she steps into the dress and pulls it up. "Don't worry, I'm sure he's looking down on us . . . and silently judging us."

"Looking down?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

"Stop it," she laughs. "That's not nice."

He walks up behind her, zips her dress, and rests his hands on her shoulders. Looking her up and down in the reflection of the mirror hung on the closet door, he says, "You look gorgeous."

The dress she's chosen is knee-length with an intricate lace pattern on top and a fabric flower accent at the waist. She covers his left hand, which sports a simple titanium wedding band, with her own hand, the huge diamond sparkling in the light.

"But really," she says, turning around in his arms, "do you think she's mad we eloped? I want her to like me."

"She loves you. You know that."

Rebecca smiles. "I hope so. It was nice of her to let us invite all our friends."

"Look at it this way. She gets to show off to her relatives and rich friends, and we get a wedding reception for free that we didn't have to plan. Win-win."

Ready to go, they both make their way to the front door, shutting off lights and closing doors along the way. Their home is modest in size, but stylish on the inside. It's a blend of both their tastes. It's all stainless steel appliances and fancy showerheads for Nathaniel. But the living room is Rebecca's domain with cozy couches and overstuffed chairs with the giant West Covina canvas above them. In the corner there is a black baby grand piano – an anniversary gift from Nathaniel a few years back.

As they walk out the door to embark on their drive to LA, Rebecca says, "I can't even remember the last wedding we went to."

Nathaniel slips his key in the deadbolt and locks the door.

"No, I do remember," she says, "Valencia and Beth."

"Oh right," he says, settling into the driver's seat and putting on his seatbelt. As she does the same, Nathaniel suddenly remembers something and winces.

"What? What was that face?" she asks, pointing at him. "You didn't like their wedding?"

"No, I just . . . nothing." He starts the car, hoping to veer the conversation elsewhere.

"No! Tell me. Tell me," she whines, bouncing in the passenger's seat.

As he backs out of the driveway, he says, "What I remember from that wedding is Greg yelling at us and me almost completely blowing it with you."

"You had me in the first half, but lost me in the second part."

He bites his lip for a moment, then says, "That was when we were friends, remember? Just friends."

"Yes, of course, I remember."

Watching the road ahead is a good distraction, so he doesn't have to admit it closeup, face-to-face. "I almost tried to kiss you that night."

Her jaw drops. "No, you didn't!" she exclaims. "I would definitely remember if that happened."

"Remember when we were dancing outside? I thought I felt some kind of . . . moment. And I almost kissed you. But I didn't want to ruin everything." He chuckles, "I'm sure you don't remember, it was a hundred years ago."

"Excuse me? Remember?! I remember it like it was yesterday. I wanted you to kiss me."

"No, you didn't. Stop humoring me."

"I did! I swear!" she says, grabbing his forearm.

He drums his thumbs on the steering wheels and grins.

"Believe me or not, I'm telling you I remember the exact moment. On the stairs. You, singing Frank Sinatra to me. Me, practically swooning."

He glances at her. "You do remember."

Rebecca settles back in her seat, satisfied.

"It was for the best, though," she says, remembering. "We were just friends then."

"Of course. Just friends," he repeats, smirking.

Nathaniel reaches across the console and holds her hand, running his thumb across it, the pad catching on her engagement ring.

"We're still friends," he says with a smile, throwing her a meaningful look.

She nods and says wistfully, "Best friend I ever had."