I reached the den and there he was, sipping on wine, looking as eager to see me as I was to be seen. Taking my hand, he led me onto his terrace, where under a night full of stars we dined on Chilean sea bass in a teriyaki ginger glaze, with wasabi mashed potatoes served over a bed of green beans. I was so hungry, I finished my meal and wanted to finish his, but I decided to chill instead. Too close to the finish line to commit an unnecessary foul. For dessert we had a banana soufflé covered with vanilla bean sauce. The plate was yelling, “Lick me, lick me,” but again, I mustered restraint and like a lady I left just enough on the plate to appear grateful, but not greedy.

“All done?” he asked, wiping his mouth like a monarch.

“Yep. All done.”

He rose from his seat, walked behind mine, and reached for my chair, pulling it from under me. We held hands as we walked from the patio into the yard.

“Have you ever imagined what it would feel like taking a year off to travel the world? Anywhere, anytime, anyplace?”

“Yeah, sure, I’ve thought about it. Every woman’s thought about it. I guess I’ve just never had the time or the means.”

“If you were given the means, would you then find the time?”

“Quinton, what are you saying?”

“What I’m saying, Montana, is come travel with me. Around the world. See places you’ve only read about in National Geographic magazines or seen pictures of on the Discovery Channel. Let’s visit the pyramids in Egypt, the Coliseum in Rome. Let’s do something silly like box with a kangaroo in Australia, or something dangerous like join a safari in Tanzania. Montana, what I’m saying is, if you’ll give me the time then I’ll give you the means.”

In a George of the Jungle kind of way, was this a proposal? I mean, why else would he ask me to travel for a year? I mean, didn’t he not-so-subtly ask me to move in earlier today? And when we were at the airport, didn’t he tell Richard that I was staying for the afternoon and “Hopefully the afternoon won’t be the only thing she’ll be joining us for…” Oh yeah. It was a proposal. It was definitely a proposal.

“So what are you really saying, Quinton? Are you asking me to leave my job, give up my apartment, detach myself from my friends, family, the twenty-four-hour video store?”

“Yes. Do you want me to hire a plane and have him skywrite it in the air? Yes, Montana, yes.”

“Oh my God, Quinton. Oh my God.”