“The date is October nineteenth. I know it’s crazy soon, and it’d be such a whirlwind, but wouldn’t that be fun?” I ask, amping up the enthusiasm in my voice. “Why bother waiting if we know we just want to get married?”

He puts his phone facedown on the bed and gives me an amused look.

“You really want to do that?” he asks.

I nod and give him my best hopeful look.

“I don’t know, isn’t that too soon?” he asks. “Don’t we need more time to plan everything?”

“Hotel weddings are so easy,” I say. “They’re catered, everything is done for you. You just, like, bring your own dress and suit and guests.”

He suddenly stops smiling. “You’re not pregnant, are you? Is that what the rush is all about? Because if you are, that would be a major surprise, but still exciting, um, I mean, if you want it to be exciting news, and I would—”

“Blake, stop,” I say, playfully hitting his arm. “I’m not pregnant. I guess I just got a little too caught up with the excitement of getting married and thought a whirlwind wedding would be fun.”

That much at least is the absolute truth.

“You really like this place?” he asks.

“I do.”

“You realize it’s crazy fast to get married a month from now, right?”

“Oh, fully.”

He’s silent for a moment. Then, just when I’m ready to shake him for a response, he gives me a smile.

“Let’s do it,” he says, giving me a kiss.

“Really?! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!”

I can’t help but sink into his arms as an overwhelming wave of relief washes over me. I hope he can’t feel the way my hands tremble. After all this time and effort, I can barely fathom that my plan is coming together seamlessly. It doesn’t feel real. But it is: Blake Barrett and I will be married at the Wythe Hotel on Saturday, October nineteenth.

There’s still one more thing to do to kick this wedding into motion. Once Blake leaves my apartment later that afternoon, I dial my mom. When she answers, I ask if Dad is around. He is—he always is. I ask her to go get him and put me on speakerphone. This isn’t how I imagined having this conversation. If anything, I had envisioned bringing home a fiancé they already considered a son. Our first dinner together over the summer was lovely, but sharing one pleasant meal doesn’t mean they’re ready to welcome him to the family.

“I wanted to let you know that Blake proposed,” I explain.

“Oh my god!” Mom blurts out.

“Eliza,” Dad says heavily.

“I know it’s soon—so soon, trust me, I do—but I really do love him. I think this is going to work.”

“You think?” Dad asks.