We lie quietly together as the sun fades and the stars shine bright and then finally get up and walk inside, holding hands. My heart is heavy with the fact that Dylan’s dad is gone, and this time for good. “I’ll lock up. Go take a shower,” I say, and she just walks ahead of me. I make sure everything is closed and check in on Dylan again, who is in the same position as he was before. I pull the door partially closed when I leave the room and walk to our room. The sound of the shower running tells me where she is as I grab the ring box and sit on the bed.

I look at the ring and wonder if there will ever be a good time to give it to her. I imagine her standing in front of me wearing a white dress and smiling. I’m so lost in my daydream that I don’t hear the shower turn off. I only look up when she opens the bathroom door and stands there in front of me wearing one of my shirts with her hair piled on top of her head.

“What?” she says, and she looks from the box in my hand and then up.

I guess there is no time like the present. “I had so many different ideas about how to do this,” I say, and she stands there in front of me, not moving. “The whole romantic moment, candles, roses, music, champagne.” I shake my head. “You name it, the idea came to my head.” Her lower lip trembles. “The rule is that you have to ask the father's permission to marry their daughter.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. “But I had someone more important to ask permission of, and that was Dylan.”

“Justin,” she says with a tear streaming down her face.

“I told him I wanted to marry you. That I wanted to make you mine forever.” I smile. “That I want everyone in the whole world to know that you’re mine. I mean, officially mine.” She steps forward to come to me, but I hold up my hand. “I told him I wanted you to have my name, and he asked me if he can have my name also, and just like that, it made this so much more than just us getting married or you becoming my wife. It means becoming not just your husband but becoming his father. He wants to call me dad.”

“I know,” she says. “He’s been dying to ask you for the past four months.”

“I said yes,” I say. “I said yes to being his father, and I really hope,” I say now, getting down on one knee in front of her, “that you’ll say yes and marry me. Become my wife.”

“This is really awkward,” she starts, “but I have a counter.”

“Of course, you do,” I say, shaking my head.