Dear Mrs. Robertson,

I'd like to formally answer your and everyone's questions about the relationship between myself and Mr. Perry Mason. Not that I feel that it is your business to know, but because people are constantly speculating incorrectly, I would like to set the record straight. And not that you are deserving of an explanation, but simply because you were bitchy enough to ask outright: Are you surprised? She is a bitch.

No, I never married. Not in the legal or conventional sense of the word at least We still can be. I know several judges who'd be more than happy to tie our knot, not to mention you know that Stefan's been after us for years to make it legal. But in the sense that I have dedicated half my life to one man...more than half my life, my time, my energy, sometimes my sanity, and certainly all my love, yes, I am bound by heaven and earth to Perry Mason.

Incidentally, Perry never married either. It wasn't for lack of trying-he proposed to me several times. I stopped counting at fifteen. It was 57 times, and I can tell the exact details of each and every one of them. Care to make it 58? We both knew, or thought, at least, that the legal institution of marriage wasn't for us. That said, we spent the better part of forty years cohabitating. Amendment: forty exhilarating years . Now, before you clutch your pearls and click your tongue, let me assure you: I do not regret it. I wouldn't give up the comfort and peace I have had for these forty years to assuage your embarrassment on my behalf. Falling asleep and waking up beside the love of one's life is a gift like no other. Don't I know it! Never did I have to worry about him staying at the office all night by himself. I never had to wonder if he was alright when he went home after a criminal was released from prison. If I couldn't sleep, he was there. To be fair, most of the time I'm the reason you can't sleep.

We've gone through everything together, from the extraordinary to the mundane. Murder trials. Health scares. Orange peels stuck in the garbage disposal. I told you not to put orange peels in the garbage disposal. Orange peels and forks. You never do listen to me. We've moved offices and houses and furniture. Let's be honest; you don't move the furniture; Paul Jr. does. You merely tell him where it goes. Loudly and repeatedly. There's really very little we haven't experienced together.

One more thing, before I close: I know. I know everything about your relationship with Perry. Not because I asked out of suspicion or a morbid sense of curiosity, no. Simply because Perry told me out of trust. I know all the cute little secrets you had. I must correct you again; they were never cute. They were incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial. Much like Laura herself, now that I think of it. All the things you did that ultimately ended your relationship. He told me every time he saw you after things ended so, so long ago. Again, not because of suspicion or doubt, but because we trust each other with everything. Everything. How could I not trust you? I knew from the beginning you were trustworthy, when I gave you unfettered access to my checking account, and my stockpile of licorice whips, and you never took more than what was appropriate.

Please know that while I do not enjoy your intrusion into our lives, I do not see you as a threat. No, she always saw you as a much bigger threat, I assure you. You couldn't threaten her; she would have to have mattered to me for you to have anything to threaten. I'm not worried about Perry being unfaithful to me, especially with the likes of you. I never would be, and certainly not with the likes of her. I merely feel this is an annoyance. One that will quickly pass, and one we will work hard to avoid in the future. Once this case is finished, you should see what I have planned for us. We won't have to work hard at avoiding her.

Very insincerely yours, Della Street You've never been insincere a day in your life, and you know it. I know you mean every word of this letter.

At the very bottom of the note, Perry decided to add in a brief postscript.

My Darling Della,

You might be surprised to know that, though it doesn't happen very often, I find myself at a loss for words. Rarely do I come across someone or something that can render me speechless, but you've managed it quite a few times in the past, and you've managed it again now.

You are that person, and this letter is that something.

I have never had any issue with writing a letter, a speech, a legal document, or anything else, but right now, I'm finding it difficult to express to you exactly how I feel. The things you wrote to Laura (I hesitate to mention her name because she doesn't deserve the privilege of having her name appear anywhere near yours), of your feelings for me, about us and our life together….they're the most beautiful things I've ever read. I don't honestly feel that I'm worthy of having you in my life, but I am eternally grateful that for whatever reason, you seem to be satisfied with me, and that you love me as much as you do.

You're quite right, you know, when you say you don't have to worry about my stepping out on you. Who would be foolish enough to go out for hamburger when you have steak at home? (I technically stole that line from Paul Newman, but as he's one of your favorites, and as it expresses exactly what I feel, I'm certain you can cut me some slack). You're everything that I ever dreamed of - everything that I ever wanted, but was certain I'd never get. The day you walked into my office was the most fortuitous day of my life, and it has only gotten better from there. Thank you for being so absolutely perfect, and for being so absolutely perfect for me, and for loving me as much as I love you.

That's quite a lot.

I always live in hope that one day your answer might be different, and then for once, I'll be the one who's surprised - so I'll finish this letter now, the way that I always have, and the way that I always will until that day comes.

Della, my love, will you marry me?

Forever Yours,

-Perry

"Oh Perry," Della's eyes began to tear up, as she clutched the letter tightly to her chest. "I should have married you the first time you asked me 35 years ago," she whispered.

"Yes, you should have."

Della turned her head, and caught sight of the love of her life leaning on his cane in the doorway.

"I - I didn't hear you come in. How long have you been standing there?" She was avoiding his gaze, and making some useless attempt to dry her eyes. She was pleased to note that her voice was as strong and sure as ever.

"Just a few minutes. I called to you, but you must not have heard me. Since we seem to once again be discussing marriage, perhaps I should ask in a more conventional manner. Now, I suppose that I could attempt to get down on one knee, but to be honest, while I'm sure I could get down," he waved the cane around a bit, "my need for this confounded contraption makes it veritably certain that you'll spend the remainder of your day trying to get me back on my feet. Hardly the romantic result either one of us would hope for."

His eyes never left hers as he moved forward to take her hand, and join her on the sofa. He leaned his cane against the side before beginning his speech.

"I know that lately I haven't been the most pleasant man to be around-"

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

"This thing with Laura...it threw me for a loop. It made me realize that you have to seize every moment, and appreciate what you have. Glenn truly loved Laura, but Laura only loved-"

"Herself."

"Correct. And since I'm fortunate enough to love you so much, and have you love me…."

"Chief, just get to the point." The sting of her words was softened by the smile on her face.

"Anything you say," Perry replied, giving a smile that matched hers. "Then for the 58th time; Della Catherine Street, will you marry me?"

Perry's hands fumbled for just a moment, as he reached into his right hand jacket pocket, and produced a small, velvet box, opening it to reveal a platinum band mounted with a 3-carat diamond, surrounded by 5 smaller diamonds on each side. "I hope you like it."

"Oh, Perry….it's….it's gorgeous," Della breathed, as he slipped the ring on her finger. "Of course I'll marry you." On impulse, she pulled him towards her, and gave him a long, lingering kiss. "I have to ask you. Do you always carry engagement rings around in your pocket, Counsellor?" She held onto Perry with one hand, and admired the ring on her finger of the other.

"Hardly. The other 57 times I asked you, I'll admit to having absolutely nothing in my pockets. Sometimes, I didn't even have pockets."

"Then where-"

"I went to the Los Angeles National Bank, and took it out of the safe deposit box. That's why I didn't ask you to come with me, Della. I wanted it to be a surprise. To be honest, I didn't think I would be proposing today, but since you beat me to the punch and answered my question before I asked it yet again….well, carpe diem, and all. Do you know something? I don't think I've ever been as happy as I am right at this moment."

"I couldn't agree more."