A numb, tingling sensation spread to her arms and legs. She felt physically ill along with being emotionally distraught.

How she made it through dinner was a mystery to her, but somehow she managed to say and do what was expected of her as though nothing were wrong. She answered his parents’ questions and responded appropriately to what was going on around her. Yet all the while the world was crashing down around her feet.

At one point Sam’s father commented that she didn’t eat enough to keep a bird alive, and Sam responded that he planned on taking care of her from now on. It had taken every ounce of composure she possessed not to inform him that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She didn’t need him to see to her meals or ensure that she made enough money to pay the rent or anything else.

By the time they left, she had never been so grateful to get away from anywhere in her life. The sun had set, and dusk had settled over the landscape. Grateful for the cover of impending night, she hoped that Sam wouldn’t notice how pale she was or how sick to her stomach she felt.

Neither spoke as they rode back to her apartment, and when they arrived, he climbed out of the car and walked her to her door.

“Invite me inside,” he said.

She felt so unsure, so unsettled. Still, she couldn’t resist him, so she nodded and unlocked the front door. “I’ll make coffee,” she murmured, heading toward the kitchen.

Sam followed her. She’d been unusually quiet on the ride back, but then again, so had he. All evening he’d been mentally rehearsing everything he wanted to say to her. It wasn’t every day a man asked a woman to be his wife, and he wanted to make this moment special.

Briefly he toyed with the idea of pulling the diamond out of his pocket and just handing it to her. But that seemed so abrupt, especially when there was so much he longed to tell her. First he planned on saying how loving her had changed his life. Since he’d met her, he felt totally alive. He loved her—that much was obvious and had been for weeks—but simply telling her that he loved her was too inadequate, especially since there was so much more to the way he felt than mere words could express.

Marjorie’s hands shook as she turned on the faucet to fill the teakettle. Her back was to him as she spoke. “I like your parents.”

“They like you, too, Kitten. I knew they would.”

She flinched. “Why do you call me that?”

“Kitten?”

Nodding, she set the kettle on the stove.

“I’m not exactly sure,” Sam responded. “I had a cat named that once.”

“The one you found in a rainstorm?”