My parents weren’t happy that Archer blew off the screen test. My mother, especially, was put out; partly because Archer had embarrassed her in front of Zac, but more because she really believed in Archer’s talent, and she was miffed that he’d flubbed a chance like that.

I hadn’t been intending to tell them the entire story about how I’d met Archer, but he talked me into it, saying he never wanted to hide anything from me or my family again.

It was awkward. My parents didn’t fully understand why I’d felt the need to hire Archer in the first place, and it took a little while for them to fully trust him again, but eventually they realized he wasn’t going anywhere and embraced him as a member of the family.

In the end, Archer got his big break the old-fashioned way: he was discovered while waiting tables. Despite my offers to explain everything to Cassandra, he insisted that he didn’t want to work for Gentlemen, Inc. again, and he filled in the blanks in his paycheck by taking a job at a restaurant. One day, he waited on a woman who turned out to be directing a low-budget horror movie. She offered Archer a role; the film turned out to be a surprise hit, and his career took off. In fact, we’re going to be spending this summer in the UK; I’ll be teaching a summer class and doing some research at the University of London, while Archer works on a film adaptation of Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him in a tailcoat and top hat.

Before we head overseas, though, we need to get through a little rite of passage first.

“I look ridiculous,” I mumble. I’m actually kind of enjoying all the fuss everyone is making over me, but I’m also feeling acutely self-conscious.

Beside me, Archer rolls his eyes. “You look amazing. Smile for the camera.”

He looks amazing, as always. He’s wearing an expensive suit, and his hair and his beard have just been trimmed. I’m clutching my diploma in one hand, and I’m wearing the shapeless black gown and eight-sided hat of a doctoral graduate. It’s dramatic, but stiflingly hot. Its main advantage right now is that it covers the little baby bump that we’re planning to tell my family about over lunch. I’m sure my family will be thrilled—but it’s also making me more tired than I’ve ever been in my life. Right now, I’m ready to sit down and get a drink of ice cold water.

But that’s not going to happen until my family commemorates everything on film.

My dad snaps several photos then hands the camera to my mother so she can get one of just him and me. Putting his arm around me, he smiles proudly. Carina bounces around like an overeager Irish setter, and even Brianna is getting into the festivities, smiling and taking silly selfies with each of us in turn.

Finally, Archer gives me a once over, and I can tell he knows I’m ready for a rest. He looks at his watch and orders everyone into their cars, promising that we’ll be right behind them.

He upgraded to a snazzy little BMW after he signed the Northanger Abbey contract. The little Honda, his last tie to Elsie, is finally gone, and I don’t miss it a bit. Archer settles me into the front seat, fussing over me like a mother hen—I swear he’d buckle my seatbelt for me if I let him—then comes around the other side of the car to join me.

But he doesn’t turn on the car.

“Before we head over the restaurant, I have a little graduation present for you,” he says, reaching into the glove compartment and pulling out a small gift box.

It’s a square and flat, a little too big for a ring, which is mildly disappointing. We’ve been living together for a year, and at this point, it’s kind of understood that we’ll be getting married, but I’m still holding out hope for a real proposal.

“Thank you.” Curious, I unwrap the box and open it. Inside there’s a brown leather button, the kind you find on an old-fashioned tweed jacket. It’s surrounded by loose sequins on a bed of cotton wool.

Archer looks at me for a moment, waiting to see if I’ll get it, but I don’t. I cock my head at him, waiting for him to explain.

He gives me a look of exaggerated patience. “A long time ago, you told me you felt like a little brown button in a family full of sparkly sequins.”

“And you’re telling me that’s … exactly what I am?”

He rolls his eyes. “Pick up the button!”

I pick it up and burst out laughing even as my eyes fill with tears. It’s attached to a very large, very sparkly diamond ring.

“What I’m trying to say,” Archer continues, “is that you may think of yourself as a little brown button, but you’re actually the sparkliest one of all. How about it, Dr. Winter?” He takes the button out of my hand and detaches the ring. “Be my wife?”

Not trusting myself to speak, I nod and I hold out my left hand. He slides the ring onto my third finger.

I hold out my hand and admire the way the diamond catches the light. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he says, wiping a hand across his forehead in exaggerated relief. “I was not looking forward to telling your dad we had a baby on the way if you didn’t have a ring on your finger first.”

I laugh and swat him on the shoulder, then the next thing I know, he’s kissing me, and I forgive him, as I always do.