I didn’t expect the hand job under the table, but I’m not complaining. I thought she might have wanted to keep her distance from that sort of thing, but apparently, she’s kinkier than I thought.

She’s amazing. That was amazing. But in all honesty, it throws a pretty big nut in the gears. I came here to set everything straight. I came here, really, to ask her if she’ll be my wife. I’ve got the damn ring and everything. Problem is, she’ll have wanted me to court her pretty hard. I’m sure of it. And I’m not certain that asking right after a hand job is appropriate.

So I wait and watch her enjoy the food. She spoons the caviar onto crackers. She dips the lobster tails until they’re dripping in butter. She drinks her champagne, swallowing every last bubble. And all I can fucking think about is fitting my cock inside her tight, little pussy.

She smiles and sets her champagne glass down. She burps and covers her mouth, turning red in the face. “Oops,” she laughs. I just smile at her. “What? Why are you being creepy?” she asks me.

“Nothing,” I say. “You’re just cute. You’re really fucking cute.”

“You’re kind of handsome, I guess,” she winks.

“No, I mean it. I’m picturing what it might be like to actually date you,” I say.

Her expression completely changes. She goes from playful to serious. “Stop, James,” she says. “You’re like ten years older than me, first. Second, I just don’t trust your little honest-Abe game.”

I laugh and try to comprehend what she just said. “Honest-Abe game?” I ask her. “What the hell is that?”

“I don’t know, but it’s what you’re playing right now. I know how men get. They’re all, ‘I love you so much, baby. I’ll do anything. I’ll buy you clothes, pay for your rent, and kiss your feet in the morning.’ But in the end, they never come through,” she says. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“You must have had a rough childhood,” I say.

“Actually, no,” she shrugs. “My parents have been together since the beginning. I don’t know where the cynic in me came from, but it’s there.”

I decide to just lay my cards on the table. I mean, why not? What do I really have to lose? Sure, it’s a marriage proposal. It’s a big fucking deal. But it’s obvious that this woman is someone special. Plus, if it doesn’t work out, we get to split a house. My father can be happy I made the attempt at least.

“So, you wouldn’t get married?” I ask her.

She doesn’t stop eating, nor does she look up at me. “I don’t know. I think I will someday, you know? I haven’t even finished my finals yet. I can barely think about today, let alone tomorrow,” she says.

“You wouldn’t marry a guy like me?” I ask again, slow and steady.

“Like you?” she asks. This time, she stops eating her food. “What are you asking, James? This is weird.”

I shrug and grab my glass of champagne. “I don’t know. It’s just an idea,” I say.

“Getting married is just an idea?” she asks. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m just saying, it wouldn’t be that weird. Would it? People get married all the time,” I say.

“Well, when you put it that way,” she says, lifting her empty glass off the table.

“Yeah?” I set mine down.

“No! Hell no. So what? People get married. That’s not a good reason to do it. People also eat fast food every day. It doesn’t mean it’s good for you,” she says.

“See, we’re meant for each other. You’re the health guru and I’m the guy with the scalpel,” I say.

“James, that honestly sounds like the premise to a bad horror movie,” she says.

“Or the start of a great romance,” I say.

“Right.” She grabs her fork and spikes a piece of lobster tail. She holds it in front of her, as if it’s a foreign being. “Anyway, can we talk about something else? This is making me lose my appetite.”

The waiter overhears our conversation and interjects, “How about dessert?”

I look at her and she smiles big. “The chocolate mousse with caramel and whip cream sounds like a dream,” she says.

“We’ll get that and two coffees,” I say. She smiles even bigger.

I shouldn’t have brought up the marriage thing. It was a stupid idea to appease my father. Why the hell do I even care so much? I guess because my mother is in the hospital, on her last days. It makes you see things in a different light. Now, I get the importance of following the path, at least a little bit.

After dinner, we’re stuffed and sitting in the car. I keep the radio playing at a low volume and we just sit and listen to the noises outside and in. “This was really fun,” she says. I fumble the ring inside my jacket. Fun. Well, it was, but there was supposed to be more to this. This was supposed to be the night that changed my life forever. Instead, I just feel fat and stupid.

“Yeah, it was perfect,” I say. “We should do stuff like this more often. You know, when you’re finally done with classes.”

“We should.” She smiles. I should be happy with the smile. I should be utterly thrilled that she’s even this into me. But now I want more. I want her as mine, for real.

“I’ll drive you home,” I say, putting the car into gear.

As I pull out, the wheels smash against the gravel and the smell of seafood wafts back in. She’s looking at me in a daze and I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. When she gently rests her head on my shoulder, I know it’s a good thing. Still, she whispers, “Did you mean what you said in there?”

I know exactly what she’s talking about, obviously, but I try and play dumb. “What? About the service? They’ve got great service,” I say.

“No, dummy,” she says. “About getting married. Why’d you bring that up?”

I can’t tell her about my father, nor can I tell her about the house. I can’t tell her about my revelation, about how life is short and family is everything. It’s not what she’ll want. It needs to be a natural thing. “It’s no big deal,” I say. “I was just postulating.”

“Okay… because you wouldn’t get married to someone that fast, would you? I mean, that’s kind of weird. People usually wait years to do that kind of thing,” she says.

I examine the road and slow down at a light. I turn and smile. “Of course not. I was just seeing what you thought about marriage,” I say.

“Someday I want to,” she says. “But it has to be perfect.”

“Like a story,” I say.

“No. It just has to feel right,” she whispers. Her house isn’t far from here and I know I’m not going to get my answer tonight. I can’t even fathom how I’d go about asking her at this point. So, I swallow my pride and suck it up, like a man should.

“I want to keep seeing you, though,” I say.

“Exclusively?” she asks.

I raise my eyebrows and bite my tongue. I turn another corner. The streetlights hit my eye. Another corner and I’m in her driveway. “Yeah. Exclusively,” I say. “I mean, we don’t have to rush anything. I’m just saying.”

“Are you still having dinner with your family on Wednesday?” she asks.

“Yeah, as far as I know. I’m actually kind of excited. These days, I tend to value the time I get with them,” I say.

“I’d like to go,” she declares. “I’d like to meet them.”

“Seriously?” I ask. I put the car in park and reach out to her. She grabs my hand and puts it against her cheek. She kisses my fingers and lets go. I move my head toward her. I feel her soft lips against mine and I’m dying for her again.

“Seriously. What’s the worst that can happen?” she laughs.

“My dad is sort of intense sometimes, especially if he’s been drinking Scotch,” I say. “He gets all… deep.”

“Like how?” she asks me.

“I don’t know. He’s just very sentimental. No, he’s old school. He’s a bit set in his ways when it comes to the idea of family,” I say.

“Well,” she opens the door, “I think I like that.”

“Hold up,” I say, grabbing her hand. She jumps back in and faces me. “You look beautiful. Always,” I tell her. We kiss. I hold her scent in for as long as I can.

“I’ll miss you.” I smile.

“Sure you will,” she says, shutting the door.

But she doesn’t know me as well she thinks. She doesn’t know that I’m sitting in my car, lifting up the front of my suit jacket and smelling her perfume. She doesn’t know that I’m dreaming of her tonight. She doesn’t know about the ring in my pocket.