The next morning I wake to the sound of pots and pans clashing, and I climb out of bed to wander toward the noise in the kitchen. The aroma of coffee fills my nose, and I stare in amazement at what appears to be every item from every cabinet covering all available surfaces.

As I watch Jake move with efficiency I notice his hair is spiked up from a cowlick he hasn’t tamed, and it makes me want to smooth it down. He’s not perfect either. I can do this. He loves me for who I am, and I love him. Everything is going to be okay—as long as I don’t screw it up like I do with anything good in my life. Stop it. I swallow my insecurities down with a gulp and force a smile.

"Good morning, my love. Coffee?"

I gingerly step into a spot on the floor just big enough for my foot. "No, thank you. I thought you didn't drink it either?"

"That was before I discovered all the amazing selections." I notice he's speaking faster than usual. "I woke up early and went down to the newsstand on the corner to get a paper, and when I was there I smelled the most amazing odors coming from the shop across the street." He glances around as if he's looking for something.

I smile, because it has to be my friend Morgan's coffee shop he’s referring to, and I imagine the scene. "Let me guess. You got into a conversation about the coffee bean with Morgan, and the next thing you knew she had you buy a bag of every flavor they carry."

"Close. Morgan recognized me right away, and she let me taste every flavor as she pumped me for information about us." He ducks down behind the counter and pops back up with a large lid in his hand before he places it on its corresponding pot and grins at me as if he solved a complex problem. "You should really text her." He grabs another lid to repeat the process, and as he searches for the next pot he says, "I left with a coffee maker, a grinder, and a few pounds of beans."

I chuckle. "How much coffee have you had?"

He sighs. "Probably more than I should have. I think your leaders gave Eroscia a placebo, because the coffee on my planet never made me feel this good. I could run a marathon right now."

"I wouldn't suggest it." I pick my way over to the shiny new coffee maker on the counter and a stack of dishes rattles as I bump it with my leg. "You might have a heart attack. I bet your pulse is racing."

Jake places his hand on his chest. "Oh no. It is racing." His eyes widen. "You don't think I'm going to—" His eyes flutter shut as he sinks to the floor.

I crouch down to see if he fainted. He opens one eye to me, and I smile before I kiss him. “You’ll be fine.” I stand up and grab the carafe of coffee. I guess if aliens are sensitive to alcohol, caffeine is likely the same way. Steam rises as I pour hot liquid down the drain. "But moderation is key with coffee. Okay?"

"Right." A pot scrapes on the floor as he hits it with his foot and stands up again. He glances around the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind I decided to organize things."

"Not at all." I plot a course to the refrigerator as I say, "I'm glad you are. Now we'll both be able to find things." I reach in and grab one of the yogurts we bought last night. I spy a path to a bar chair and ask, "Can you toss me a spoon?"

"That is not what you're having for breakfast, Hannah."

His tone sounds bossy but his expression says he cares about me. "Why not? It's got twelve grams of protein. It's a perfectly good meal."

He lets out a huff. "I'm making you scrambled eggs."

"You—"

"And you will eat them." He pulls a sauté pan from a pile as if he's performing a magic trick. "How you survived before I came along, I'll never know."

I chuckle as I point to a pile of plastic food containers. "Did you notice all of those have names written on them?"

"Yes. And I found it curious. Why?"

"Those all belong to neighbors and friends who don't think I eat well either." I give him a sheepish grin. "They put their name on the container with the hope I'll return it after I've eaten the meal they gave me."

"Hannah!" Jake shakes his head. "These people remain your friends?"

I peel off the foil top of my yogurt and stick my finger in it. "Yup." I lick creamy dairy off my digit. "Amazing, right?"

Jake smiles at me. "You are." He grabs a spoon from the pile of silverware to toss to me, and I catch it easily. "What do you have planned today?" he asks as he opens the fridge to get eggs. He tucks milk under his arm too and turns to me. “Morgan told me you're getting ready for a show that's coming soon." Eggs crack before he whisks them in a bowl.

I close my eyes and let out a sigh, because I had successfully forgotten how close my deadline was. One I'm likely going to miss since I can't seem to paint anything worthwhile. "Yeah. I'm working."

"What's wrong?"

I open my eyes to look at Jake and see the love on his face. I can't tell him what a failure I am, so I say, "Nothing. Some days I'm just not as motivated as others."

"Perhaps you should have had coffee."

A spatula scrapes on a pan as he pushes the eggs around, and I change the subject. "What do you think about wrapping up my friends' food containers as party favors?"

"Party favors?"

"Yes. When guests come to a party they often get gifts."

"I know what party favors are, Hannah."

"Of course you do. But do you know what party I'm talking about?" When he frowns I grin. "I'm wearing a white dress, and I bet you'd look amazing in a tuxedo."

Jake smiles at me. "You haven't changed your mind."

My love for him fills me with joy, and I get up from my chair to go to him. "Of course not." I grab his shirt and rise on my tip toes to kiss him. Jake holds my face in his hands. "I cannot believe how lucky I am."

I take my hand that is braced on his shoulder and slide it over the firm muscles of his arm. He shivers a little. "I feel like I'm the lucky one."

"You're getting an every-day alien with what might be an obsessive need for order, and I'm getting an amazing artist who knows how to make me feel like I'm floating on air."

I frown. "I'm not that good a painter, Jake."

"What? Of course you are." He turns to the pan of eggs. "I'm no expert, but what I saw in your studio was fantastic. How else would you get a show coming up in one of the most prestigious galleries in town?"

I shrug. "That was luck." My stomach rolls with my discomfort. When Jake thumps a plate of food down on the counter where a pot used to sit, I pick it up. "I should really work on my show. Thanks for breakfast." I get out of the kitchen as fast as I can without appearing as if I'm running away, and when I get to my studio I set the food down on a counter.

I glance at the blank canvases I should fill, and I'm overwhelmed. What if nothing sells? Or people walk out in disgust after they see I'm just a hack? I shake my head because I can't deal with this right now. My stomach growls, and I focus on the eggs I’d set down. Salty goodness fills my mouth but gets stuck in my throat as I find it hard to swallow.

I recall our walk home last night after Jake asked me to marry him. I felt like I was walking on air and I let that joy fill my heart. The eggs in my throat slide down easily now. I'm getting married! And the sooner the better, because the kiss we had last night before going to our separate bedrooms made it hard for either of us to stop.

My fork scrapes on the plate as I get the last bit of egg, and I decide I'm not working today. I have a wedding to plan.