“Then what’s the problem?”
“Me. I’m the problem.” I raised my injured hand. “This is going to take time to sort through. I might never have it fully sorted.”
“All right. So what?”
“So what?” I asked in exasperation. “That’s a lot to take on.”
“I thought that’s what people did in relationships. For better or for worse, richer and poorer, and all that mumbo jumbo.”
I paused. “You think marriage is mumbo jumbo?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“And yet you want to live together?”
He sighed and began to pace. “Marriage is a piece of paper. It’s an institution created by lawyers. A business arrangement.”
“Wow. That’s cold.”
“I’m not wrong,” he pointed out. “But choosing you, day in, day out, choosing a life with you, there’s nothing cold about that. And that’s what I’m saying, Linden. I don’t believe in marriage. You want to get married? Fine we’ll get married, but I don’t have to do it to feel secure in this. What about you?”
“What about me?” I evaded.
“How do you feel about marriage?”
“If you get married, there’s a possibility of divorce,” I said.
“So, by not getting married you don’t have to worry about that?”
“Contracts can be dissolved, rings can be removed, even ink can be lasered off. What’s the guarantee that any of it will last?”
He walked toward me and leaned down to cradle my cheek for a moment before letting go. “There’s no guarantee about any of it, Linden. You just have to live each day as it comes. Live in the present. The future will take care of itself.”
“I don’t like the idea of marriage in the general sense,” I said slowly, looking up to meet his eyes. “But I kind of like the idea of marriage to you.”
He smiled. “Is that a proposal?”
I snorted and pulled away. “No.”
“I accept.”
I stilled. “You accept?”
Boxer nodded. “Yeah. I accept.”
“I didn’t ask,” I said in exasperation.
“You didn’t? Sure sounded like you were asking.”
“Boxer,” I began.
“Marry me.”
“What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated.
“But I don’t—and you—”