“You’re sticking around?” I asked, a smile playing at my lips.

“You’re stuck with me now,” she replied cheekily.

I grabbed her around the waist and threw her over my shoulder as we laughed. I couldn’t remember being this happy before.

“Marry me,” I whispered as I laid her on the bed.

“You’re insane,” she whispered back, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Maybe,” I conceded. “But can you think of one reason why you shouldn’t marry me?”

Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. “We haven’t been together long enough.”

“Semantics.”

“You haven’t met my family.”

“I’ll get on a plane tomorrow.”

“You—I—you.”

“See,” I murmured, pressing my mouth to hers. “We should get married. I love you and you love me.”

I was riding the high, and I couldn’t think of a single reason why I’d ever feel differently about Sarai. Nothing in my life had prepared me for her. Nothing had ever felt so right or perfect.

“I do love you,” she said, running her fingertips down the side of my face. She stared at me, tracing my eyebrows, nose, and lips with her index finger. “I’ll marry you,” she said huskily. “Yes.”

“Yes?” I asked dumbly, unsure if I’d heard her correctly.

“Yes,” she said again, pinching my nose as she laughed.

“Holy shit,” I said gleefully.

I kissed her hard, and I loved it when she relaxed into the bed underneath me, one hand sliding around to my back while the other cupped my cheek. I held myself back a little, not comfortable with the idea of having sex in my parents’ house.

However, neither of us went to bed unsatisfied that night. And later, as I drifted off to sleep with Sarai tucked close against my chest, I ignored the kernel of fear that I was rushing us into something we weren’t ready for.

*  *  *

I woke up on Thanksgiving morning to a thunderstorm and the sound of my mom and dad talking quietly in the kitchen as they started cooking. Sarai was still completely passed out as I shifted carefully out of bed and found some clothes to wear. I was pretty sure she’d been burning the midnight oil all week in order to have her schoolwork done before we left, and now she’d finally had the chance to crash.

I tiptoed out of the room in my socks and closed the door firmly behind me, hoping she’d get the chance to sleep in. I hated that she worked so hard, but I understood the drive. Now that we were getting married, maybe I could help her relax a little. Teach her how to slow down once in a while.

I was grinning stupidly as I made my way into the kitchen.

“I told you to sleep in,” my mom chastised as soon as I’d walked into the room.