Ryan doesn’t look up from his work. “Plan One is to enjoy our vastly improved quality of life, now that you have a working dishwasher. And a revamped radiator.”

“That rattle was my lullaby. You’d better hope I’ll be able to sleep through the silence.”

“I’m thinking you, me, that couch, pizza delivery, with jalapenos because I love you, and the new Scorsese. Is that a perfect Saturday, or what?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day!” I cry, more fiercely than intended. I’ve always been pretty lackadaisical about the holiday, but maybe I’m a bit worked up because this is the first year that Valentine’s Day has fallen on a weekend, which means it’s the first one we’ve actually gotten to spend together.

“I’m joking.” Ryan grins. “You should have seen your face when I said Scorsese.”

I throw a pillow at him. “I hate Scorsese. It’s like, would it kill him to put a woman in a film before Act Two—”

“Lanie,” he cuts me off, sensing a diatribe. “I’ve got a whole day planned, capped off by a very fine dinner at your favorite, Peter Luger. I made the reservation months ago.” He glances at me, and I know I haven’t reacted with the desired level of enthusiasm. “Lanie?”

We’ve celebrated our last four special occasions at Peter Luger, but if I mention that, it’ll be: It’s an institution! or I thought you loved their creamed spinach, which I do, above all vegetables on earth, but I don’t feel like defending creamed spinach tonight. The routines we’ve fallen into sometimes make me feel restless and claustrophobic, like a windup toy stuck in a corner.

“Do you ever worry that we act like old married people who are neither old nor married?” I ask.

And I think he’s going to say: No, because there’s no one else I want to be old and married with, which is why I proposed to you.

But Ryan surprises me, like he does sometimes. He picks me up, tosses me over his shoulder, and barrels toward the bedroom, making me yelp with delight.

“You ever seen an old married guy do this?” He tosses me on the duvet, and I’m hungry to get my hands on him.

By dusk on Valentine’s Day, we’ve had brunch at our favorite spot, Parker & Quinn, which I love for their DIY mimosa bar (four kinds of juice!) and Ryan loves because he gets to watch the Wizards beat the Bulls. He’s taken me to a midtown tennis shop for a racquet so that his couples goal of playing doubles in D.C. can finally be reached. I, in turn, have dragged him to the Guggenheim because I can’t get enough of Helen Frankenthaler’s Canal.