Although I had no prior experience, I’d always imagined a marriage proposal resulted in tears and smiling. Boy asks, girl bursts into a waterfall of happy tears, wedding plans ensue. I didn’t cry, which was a bad sign. We both knew that, but Brett was still down there on one knee with a ring in his hand.

Will you marry me?

There had been more to his speech. Something about compatibility and solid communication skills. Basically, the antithesis of romantic. It takes a lot to shut me up completely. I’m talking about total I-can’t-think-of-a-thing-to-say silence, but Brett had managed to dumbfound me with that one question. In fact, I could barely process thoughts at all, so I started to make a mental list, hoping it would look like I was thinking and not stalling long enough that he’d give me an out. Or we’d fall into a wormhole. Or die of old age.

Basically, anything that got me out of answering him.

Lists were my back-up plan. They kept me on top of school, out of trouble, and most of all, they made sure my life was organized. My whole brain was like a giant day planner, split into neat, categorized lists: classes, MCATs, Cassie and Jillian, family, and Brett. Not necessarily in that order, but close. Brett’s list took up the smallest amount of space in my brain’s agenda. I didn’t think it was harsh, because he didn’t need much. Not from me. Brett was independent and responsible, majoring in business and planning to continue straight through for his MBA. We worked because we didn’t need each other. At least, that’s what I thought. Now, I wasn’t so certain. Getting married would require a major recategorization. Apparently, Brett wasn’t happy with the tiny, but adequate, space he occupied on my priority list. Why else would he be asking me to marry him?

The ring he held was proof of premeditation. He’d been thinking about this—planning this—for days? Weeks? It’s not like you can pick up a diamond at a 24-hour mini-mart. Retracing my night, I examined each of the evening’s events moment by moment, looking for some clue as to what the hell had brought this about tonight. We’d both finished finals earlier in the week, which let me focus on getting Jillian through her own tests. Tonight, we had met Cassie, Jillian, and Liam at Garrett’s for the end of the semester celebration. Cassie had begged out to hunt down Trevor, and Jillian and Liam had left for a private party back at our apartment.

But no matter how hard I retraced my steps for the evening, I couldn’t find one hint that Brett was unhappy with our relationship as it stood. He was quiet at the bar, but he always was. Brett’s brain was constantly in two places at once: trying to go on a date while worrying about school or the future. We had that in common. It was part of what made us work.

Brett cleared his throat to remind me he was still there, and I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I was out of time, and I still couldn’t think of anything to say to him. What would Jillian or Cassie do in this situation? Jillian would laugh at him and Cassie would curse at him. Neither of those reactions seemed appropriate, although I felt a little like doing both. And maybe crying, too, but not in a good way.

“Jess?” Brett prompted, and I forced myself to look at him. He was good-looking but not so hot that he was an asshole. Clean-shaven with precisely cut hair and clothes that skirted the line between hipster and preppy. I had no doubt that those clothes would get preppier the closer we got to graduation. Blazers and khakis were in his future. Because Brett was the perfect match for someone who planned to continue on to a demanding career. He was steady, responsible, and moderately ambitious, but as I stared at him now, I realized that didn’t mean anything to me.

The fact that he was down on one knee made the whole thing so much more awkward.

“I’m thinking,” I hedged.

“Are you thinking yes or no?” The accompanying laugh was too forced to break the tension. Could he sense my hesitance? It couldn’t be what he’d expected when he planned his proposal.

“I don’t know.” I really didn’t know. My mind was incapable of producing a definite answer to any question at the moment. He could ask me if the sky was blue right now and I couldn’t say yes.

Brett’s shoulders dropped, but the smile stayed pinned to his face. I was beginning to think he wouldn’t budge from this spot until I agreed to be his wife.

His wife!

Crap on a cracker. Brett wanted me to marry him, and no matter how hard I tried to adjust the never-ending lists in my head, I couldn’t seem to find a spot for that. I couldn’t tell him that though. Instead, I closed the lid of the jewelry box, concealing the sparkling princess cut diamond engagement ring as though I could hide from it.

The muscles in Brett’s jaw popped as he rose to his feet. “I guess that’s my answer.”

“That’s not an answer,” I stopped him. “I need to think about it. There’s a lot to consider. Med school, finances, residencies.” Even as I said it, I knew that if he’d presented me with a Power Point on how our marriage would affect all those things, I wouldn’t have been able to say yes on the spot. I wanted to believe this was because I was a careful girl, and not because I’d been stringing him along for the better part of a year. The problem was that I couldn’t imagine any scenario in which I would say yes.

But was not saying yes really saying no? Had I just signed the termination order on our relationship? It would be difficult to recover from this. Maybe with some time, and a lot of pro-con listing, I’d see things differently.

“I get it.” Brett held up a hand in surrender. “Make your list, Jess.”

But even though I hadn’t said no, Brett didn’t kiss me goodnight at my door, and I couldn’t blame him. I could hedge and make excuses to him. I could even tell myself that I might change my mind after a good night’s sleep and some time to think. But the truth was that we both knew this was one decision a list couldn’t help with.