He told her on their fifth date that he had wondered if he’d ever meet someone. That he’d never expected to get married, because his place on the spectrum put a lot of people off. That women didn’t have patience for him. That he wasn’t tall enough. That he didn’t know how to flirt.

Lauren thought he was utterly delightful because of those things, not despite them.

Also, had he just actually said the word married? She didn’t ask him for further explanation, but she sure as hell replayed that sentence ten thousand times.

She didn’t wonder if they should take things more slowly. Didn’t wonder if anyone else was out there. She deleted her dating apps the night of the Hope Center opening.

He was the one. And so was she.

He was equal parts smooth and dorktastic. He unabashedly loved his mom, who raised him single-handedly after her boyfriend had abandoned her. Josh saw her and the Kims every Wednesday night for dinner. If his mom texted him a cat video, he’d watch it, and love it. Yes, he lost track of time and was often late and didn’t have a Pavlovian response to texts and needed her to explain things like body language, only watched the same two TV shows (The Great British Bake Off and Star Trek). Yes, he desperately needed a decent barber. It didn’t matter. He videoconferenced with the likes of Bill Gates and Bono—Bono!—and presented workshops on up-and-coming fields of biotech. Several times when they were out walking, deans from RISD and Brown had literally run to catch up to them to say hello to their prodigy.

Joshua also held the door for her and took her to the nicest restaurants as ranked by Providence.com (he was big on research). He was unabashed in telling her she was beautiful, smelled good, had smooth skin. He sent flowers to her home and office, sometimes twice in one day, forgetting that he’d already done it.

His work was so important, and he was so wonderful, but left on his own, he might stay in his apartment for the rest of his life, lost in his mind palace. So she scheduled time off for him, putting it into his phone so he’d get a reminder an hour before that he was due to shower and answer the door when she buzzed. She would text him and tell him to stretch and drink a glass of water and eat a vegetable, and he’d answer with a picture of a carrot and the words thank you.

They took walks in the cold winter air, went to student shows at the Providence Art Club and RISD, where Josh was always fawned over (justifiably) and Lauren was not (irritatingly). She cooked for him and introduced him to the wonder of roasted broccoli, which he had never tried before.