“Where are you going?”
“Vegas. I told you so.”
“With who?”
“It’ll happen when it happens.”
“Someone who actually shows up when I ask him to.”
“Who?”
“You spent nine years deciding if I was good enough to marry you. Tonight I’m deciding whether you’re good enough to marry me. You have until then to figure out what you did wrong.”
“I know what I did wrong. I should’ve proposed.”
“Someone who actually shows up when I ask him to.”
“Wrong answer.”
“Then what’s the right one?”
“I don’t want you to marry me because you’re scared I’ll leave. Figure it out.”
“And if I don’t? You’re going to marry some random guy?”
“Maybe.”
He stared at the dress. Then at me.
“You… you can’t do this to me.”
“You’re going to marry some random guy?”
“Funny. You had nine years to decide what you could do to me.” I opened the door. “Dinner’s in the oven.”
