6. Proposal

As Wick-Sweets did nothing over the course of the evening to impose himself on their attention, Bonnie and Trev soon forgot his presence entirely. In this, he was really no different from all the other patrons in the room, who, for all the notice Bonnie and Trev took of them, might just as well have been eating ready-quick dinners out of plastic trays in the comfort of their own homes.

The two of them talked easily, with hardly a lull in their conversation. Trev brought her up to date on the latest news and gossip making the rounds of his law practice, and Bonnie filled him in on the progress of her projects both at the Jeffersonian and in her own studio. They discussed the Senator's upcoming bid for re-election, and what they could, separately and together, contribute to the effort. They touched on the state of her grandfather's health, and her growing concern on that score. All the while, they reveled in one scrumptious course after another, exclaiming over the beauty of the presentations and savoring the deliciously complex flavors of the food. They shared unselfconsciously, scooping must-try tidbits onto each other's plates, or proffering a delectable morsel at the end of a fork. As the first bottle of wine was emptied and replaced by a second, they grew somewhat giddy and expansive, laughing and beaming at each other so warmly, they caused the other diners in their immediate vicinity, and even their waiter, to smile indulgently at so obvious a picture of young love.

For dessert, the waiter set a large glass bowl of zuppa inglese before them, poured out two flutes of champagne, and left the bottle cooling in an ice bucket table-side. Bonnie looked at the liqueur-soaked cake and cream concoction with its glossy strawberry topping, and said, on a contented sigh, "That looks much too beautiful to eat!"

"In that case…" With great deliberation, Trev moved the dish toward the center of the table, and that done, he reached into his suit coat pocket, and removed from its depths a midnight-blue jeweler's box which he set, loosely caged in his fingers, on the table before him. He extended a hand to her, and she surrendered hers to him. "Bonita Angel Booth-Hodgins," he said, more solemn than she had ever seen him, "you have always been the one for me, dating back to grade school when I took it for granted, as the natural order of things, that one day we would be married and go on to live happily ever after. They say change is the only constant, but that's not my experience. Loving you has been a constant practically my whole life, and I don't expect that ever to change. You know me. You can trust I will always put your happiness first, and your welfare before my own.

"What we have together, Bonnie, you and me, it's… right. In every way. That's how I see it. It's not the stuff of romance novels: there won't be any books or movies documenting the tremendous highs and desperate lows of our love. When I look ahead, I see a life of common joys: rewarding work, a comfortable home, children, if we're lucky, a large dog or two always underfoot, and, when we've done our part to make the world a better place, an active old age. That's my dream for the future, and I very much hope you'll be willing to make it come true with me." He released her hand so as to take hold of the little blue box, raise its lid, and set it, contents revealed, on the table in front of her. "Will you marry me?"

Brilliant as an evening star against the blue velvet interior, a solitary princess-cut diamond sparkled up at her. The white gold band which held it was fairly wide, and not a closed circlet; rather, its two ends narrowed to rounded points and twisted, one up and one down, securing the large square gemstone between them. The exquisite beauty of its materials and workmanship quite aside, Bonnie could appreciate the lovely sentiment symbolized in the ring's design: two lives, separate but united in prizing and sustaining something rare and precious. Her eyes began to prick with tears, and to cover her emotion, she leaned into Trev, and kissed him.

When she pulled back, it was to see Trev looking back at her, his heart in his eyes. She was very sorely tempted to say 'yes,' but knew it would be only for his sake, not for theirs. "Sweet man," she said, softly. "True heart… no."

She steeled herself to bear his disappointment, but he gave no sign of being crushed, or even greatly let down. He nodded very slightly, as if his expectations had been met, and smiled wanly. "Still not ready. No need to look so stunned," he went on, as Bonnie sank back in her chair, astonished at his reaction. "I know you, remember, and part of that is knowing you love me. I'm not discouraged. Unless…" He studied her face, suddenly intent. "Should I be? Is there somebody else?"

"What? No, of course not!" A physical attraction, almost certainly temporary in nature, couldn't be said to qualify. "And, I know you're right: we are a perfect fit. I should be jumping up and down, and squealing like mad. I really don't know why I'm not."

"Because you're not one hundred percent sure — yet — and I suspect that's what it's going to take. Am I disappointed that you still have reservations? Of course, but I've waited fifteen years already." He closed his hand over the jeweler's box; it snapped shut with an audible clap, hiding the scintillating treasure from view. "What's a year or two more?"

"So…" Her voice, to her own ears, sounded small and hesitant. "You will ask me again?"

He picked up the champagne flutes, and handed her one. "I'd say chances of that are good to excellent. A toast," he proposed, with rather forced cheerfulness. "To better luck next time."

Bonnie clinked her glass to his, and took a sip; the wine, she discovered, had gone a bit flat.

"Now, for some of that trifle," Trev said, retrieving the desert dish and setting it between them. "Because that's all it is, really: English trifle with an Italian flair." He passed her one of the spoons, and, taking up the other, scooped up a first bite. "Just out of curiosity: would violins have, maybe, tipped the scales in my favor?"

Bonnie was startled into an inelegant snort of laughter. "Oh, Trev!" She shook her head fondly. He really was the kindest, most generous man.

"No, that's what I thought." He dug through the pudding layer, and liberated a morsel of cake. "What I should've done, looking back, is take your father's advice."

"My father gave you advice? About proposing to me?" Bonnie simply couldn't credit it.

"Not about proposing as such. This was at Sonny's wedding reception, and a group of us were sitting around, talking about all the hoops Sonny'd had to jump through to convince Adele to marry him, and your father said the best way to go about it, in his experience, is to knock your sweetheart up, and let motherhood work to your advantage."

Bonnie stared at him in equal parts horror and disbelief. "My father never…!"

"To be fair, we were all pretty plastered at the time, but I distinctly remember him saying it'd done the trick for him and your Grandpa B. The way he told it, neither your grandmother nor your mom wanted anything to do with marriage until after they'd had their first baby, and he seemed to think you showed signs of having a similar disposition."

Bonnie had graduated from incredulity to outrage. "I can't believe this! My own father! Good thing for him he's out of town at the moment!"

"Take it easy," Trev said, soothingly. "I'm sure he was just having some fun, and so was I just now. I would never take advantage of you like that, but I have to admit I've often wondered, purely as a matter of academic interest, if I have too many scruples for my own good. What if, before you left for your year in Paris, you'd found out you were pregnant, what do you think would have happened? Would we be married now?"

The question occupied her much of the ride back to the compound. She tried to imagine carrying the first of the next generation of Wyndham-Pryces. She and Trevor were both young and healthy; there was no reason to apprehend anything but a normal, uncomplicated birth. The child would have every advantage: a loving, well-to-do extended family with better-than-average looks and a potential for genius-level intellect. She could hear Grammy T now: you owe it to the world to reproduce your extraordinary genetic inheritance! A weighty responsibility, for sure, and one, on reflection, that Bonnie, after the initial shock, would have embraced enthusiastically.

She had to hand it to her father: the plan would probably have worked.