“No. To your grandma. Of course to you. Who else would he propose to?”

“I haven’t really thought about it. We’ve barely spent any time together all month.”

“It’s a wedding though. You know how weddings make people. Everyone’s happy and in love. I’d give it some thought. It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s planning something.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. I think he’ll be focused on his brother this weekend. Plus, he’s got this ballroom-dance thing with the maid of honor. There’s going to be a lot going on.”

“Hmm. Maybe you’re right. Do you think it’ll happen soon though? Are you getting the vibe?”

An interesting question. But an easy one to answer. We were never together. “Vibes are tough when there’s two thousand miles separating you.”

“You just need to move out there already. Go for it.”

“You want to hear something awful?”

“Always,” she responded.

“I really don’t want to move.” It was the first time I’d said as much out loud, and a sudden weight felt like it’d been lifted off my chest. I didn’t want to move back to California. I loved North Carolina. I loved being closer to my family. And I’d just moved back. I was nowhere near ready to move again.

“Seriously? Those are big words, Lane. He’s moving for sure, isn’t he?”

I sighed. “He hasn’t told me yet. All signs seem to be pointing in that direction, what, with how much time he’s spending out there, but he still says nothing is final. The business deal is final, but the move isn’t necessarily so. They’re still discussing whether or not an East Coast office is a reasonable possibility.”

“So, wait. The two of you aren’t talking about what this means to your relationship?”

“No. Weird, isn’t it? He’s completely avoiding the subject. And I guess I am too because if he asks me if I want to move, what am I going to say? No?”

“If that’s how you feel, yeah.”

“I think I’m waiting for something to happen that will make moving seem worth it. Something will click, and then I’ll know he’s the one and I should move.”

“Well, it’s definitely too big a step to take if you don’t feel that way.”

“Right?”

Twenty minutes later, we settled into her living room, burgers, sweet-potato fries, and two dozen macarons filling the table in front of us. “I’m so happy right now,” I said with a sigh.

She reached for a macaron, her burger still wrapped neatly on the table before her. “I want to see a picture of Simon.”

I grabbed my own macaron. “Why?”

“Just because. Does he look like his brother? Is he better-looking? These are important questions.”