He took my hand and led me to the table, pulling out my chair and pushing it gently in beneath me. “I hate to jump right in, but I’m afraid the food will get cold. Are you hungry?”

I nodded, my mind racing. What was all this for? I bit my lip to stop myself from voicing the question and ruining the magic of the moment. He placed the rose alongside the one on the plate, then filled our champagne flutes half-full. After placing them back on the table, he walked to the kitchen and reemerged a moment later with a silver tray on which lay servings of roast beef and vegetables, dinner rolls, and salad. Finally finding my voice, I chuckled and said, “If I weren’t so dazzled I’d say something witty about your culinary abilities.”

He flashed a sheepish grin as he carefully transferred food from the tray to our plates. “I’m tempted to take credit, but in all honesty, I had nothing to do with the food. I hired a chef. But I did pick the champagne.”

Hired a chef? For a little define-the-relationship dinner? What did he have up his sleeve?

I grasped the champagne flute, hoping he couldn’t see my hand shaking, and took a swallow. Any resolve I may have had on the way up had drained away at the sight of all the candles and the look on his face of eager anticipation mingled with cautious hope. I felt completely adrift. I cried out silently to God for direction.

He sat down and bowed his head, then prayed out loud for the first time. I knew I shouldn’t stare, but I couldn’t help myself. “God, thank You for Grace. Thank You for our friendship. Thank You for using her to lead me to you. Bless this food, and this evening. Amen.” He looked up, catching my gaze, and I quickly lowered my eyes to my plate, feeling myself blush. He picked up his fork, and I followed his lead, grateful to have something to occupy myself with, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

“You said you loved me.” The words were out before I had a chance to review them in my head; apparently my filter was out of order. Thankfully they came out tinged with amazement rather than accusation.

He froze in midchew, then nodded slowly and swallowed. “I did.” Pause. “Should I not have?”

I set down the fork, resigned to the fact that I wasn’t eating anytime soon. “No. I mean, no, you shouldn’t not have—I mean, it’s fine that you did.” I took a breath and slowly sighed, trying to calm myself. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”