"You're drunk," he said, breathing hard from crying and from her kiss. "You don't mean that." He took a deep breath through his nose, trying to get a grip.

Maya thought about it for a few seconds, her forehead creasing. She was sort of drunk, she supposed. But that didn't mean she wasn't sincere. "I do mean it," she said. Her feet weren't steady but her gaze was. "Marry me," she said again.

"Maya, I'm not going to marry you," he said firmly.

"Why not? You love me, right? I love you…and isn't that what people do when they love each other? They get married?"

He laughed unsteadily, wiping his eyes of the last of his tears. "You are so, so unbelievably drunk right now."

"I'm quiet believably drunk, thank you," she said.

She'd missed this.

"Come on," he said. "I'm going to take you home."

"Okay," she said.

The walk to the hotel was short. Maya managed to get there without falling over. Already, she was wishing again that she had a drink in her hand. But then she could look over at Lucas walking next to her, and she didn't want to drink anymore. He walked her to her door, and then turned to leave.

Maya grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?" she asked, suddenly feeling panicked.

"To get a room for me," he said.

"I'll go with you," she said.

She'd survived two months without him. How had she done that? She didn't want to do that anymore.

"Just go to bed," he said quietly.

She didn't let go. She didn't know how.

They held a small staring contest: a small battle of wills. Lucas lost.

"Fine," he said.

She hung on to his arm the whole time: downstairs, while Lucas was talking to the clerk, when he walked to his car to get his suitcase, when he wheeled it back, and when they walked back upstairs. "Alright," he said, when they were back at her door. "You can let go now."

She did. She kissed him on the cheek, said goodnight, went in and closed the door. She was getting through to him. She could tell. He was starting to believe that she loved him. She changed into her pajamas, climbed into bed, and fell asleep with a smile on her face, feeling for the first time since her mom died that she was going to have a real life.

Lucas stood outside the door for a full minute, his skin prickling where she had kissed him. She's drunk, he reminded himself. She didn't mean anything she was saying. She told you that one time she isn't sure if she believes in marriage, that she thinks two people change too much to stay happy together their whole lives.

Lucas believed in marriage. He believed in it so much, the thought of not getting married ever made him want to punch walls. He knew she didn't mean it, but hearing her ask him to get married still meant something to him, something cruel.

Maya didn't want to get married to him, or to anyone. She wasn't going to be there when he woke up in the morning, no matter what she had said. He was going to knock on her door at precisely 8:30 A.M., and there would be no answer, and then he would go in and Maya wouldn't be there. That's what she had written to him, and she hadn't been drunk then. Not drunk Maya was obviously more sincere than drunk Maya.

But it turned out that she wasn't.

Because when Lucas knocked on the door at precisely 8:30 A.M. the next morning, Maya opened it.

Thank you all for your lovely reviews on the last chapter! They made my day.