Margot stared out at the heaving waves of the harbor. It was a crystal clear New York City day, and the water was bright and inviting with reflected sunlight. It wasn't nearly as dark and choppy as usual; in fact, by harbor standards it was borderline tranquil.

Her stomach still revolted at the sight. Maybe agreeing to a tete-a-tete on Eddie's boat hadn't been such a hot idea after all.

She hadn't been surprised when Eddie rescheduled their "meeting". There wasn't a doubt in her mind that he hadn't returned to the Thirty Under Thirty party after taking her home and drank himself well past the legal limit at the news of her pregnancy. At least she trusted him to be responsible enough to call for a cab in the post-chivalrous hours of his night. She had seen firsthand the drunken mischief an intoxicated Eddie could get up to...and what the earth-shattering consequences could be.

Not that she was off the hook by any stretch. Hell, when you got right down to it she put the "hook" in "ill-advised hookup". Margot cradled her stomach thoughtfully. It was a habit she had already formed, even though she wasn't showing any physical signs of pregnancy yet. Nothing aside from the nausea, anyway.

She keyed in the code Eddie had texted her earlier and let herself into the private dock. No one came to meet her as she walked down the ramp alone. Maybe Eddie was a no-show. A part of her hoped that he was. She was terrified of setting foot on his expensive ship and losing her lunch.

She tried not to imagine she was walking the plank as she approached the boat on the end. Eddie's ship was small and sleek; it was named Annabella, after his long-deceased mother. Margot's own memories of Annabella were fuzzy, but she remembered that Eddie's mother had always been a warm and caring presence, one that slipped fresh cookies to a visiting Margot and still commanded the respect of her houseful of rambunctious boys.

Just the sight of the boat rocking on the water now made Margot freeze mid-step. She hastily fished through her purse for the sleeve of saltines she had started to carry with her. Recently her bouts of morning sickness were hitting her during the day, and she was hoping to avoid causing a scene. She found that crackers always helped settle her stomach.

"Unforgettable...that's what you are...unforgettable…"

Nat King Cole's rich voice wafted to her. Margot glanced up, startled, and several crackers spilled from her hand. A seagull alighted on a nearby post and squawked eagerly, but came no closer as she strained her ears to listen.

"Like a song of love that clings to me...how the thought of you does things to me…"

She was five years old again. Annabella's radio was on in the kitchen, and Eddie was walking her down the "aisle"—the name that young Margot had given to the long hallway leading to the Jamesons' back porch. Eddie held her hand aloft in his, and gamely spun her around every time they reached the end of the hall to begin their wedding march anew. She had Annabella's apron tied around her head and flowing down her back like a bridal veil.

When Nat King Cole's velvet crooning inevitably faded to commercial, they would pause and turn to one another, joining their hands with sober expressions. Sometimes Eddie would keep a stolen twist tie in his pocket to wrap around her ring finger. "Margie," he would ask her, "will you marry me?"

"I do," she would confirm dutifully. It was just another game, a script memorized between them. Whenever they got to the only part of their wedding vows they knew well enough to recite—"you may now kiss the bride"—they would lean in with their lips puckered, then thrust one another away before they could actually kiss, laughing uproariously at the narrowly avoided gross-out.

Margot blinked herself back to the present. She glanced up, and saw a broad-shouldered silhouette watching her from the prow of the ship. She shaded her eyes, and her thudding heart picked up the pace as every handsome detail of Eddie Jameson materialized. He looked older, and oddly regal, standing so high above her. Either he was absurdly overdressed, or her sweatshirt and jeans weren't the casual boating attire she had thought they were. Eddie was wearing a crisp black suit and long pants; no open shirt, no shorts. His auburn hair was slicked back, and even standing dockside, Margot could tell he was sporting the closest shave he had ever worn since picking up a razor in high school. It was the most she had ever seen him look to his older brother, Sam. The resemblance was almost jarring.

Maybe he really did plan to treat this like a business meeting.

"You're late!" he called out down to her. He leaned forward to brace himself on the bulwark.

Margot checked her phone. She was exactly on time. She wondered if Eddie had been driving himself crazy below deck all morning stewing on the exact words he would say to her, and wasn't sure how to take the mental image. Eddie wasn't usually a planner. "You rescheduled on me first!" she called back. She tossed the rest of her crackers toward the waiting seagull and moved around the side of the boat.

Eddie came to meet her. Margot mounted the stepstool, and he extended his hand down to her to help her up. She wished her heart didn't somersault at the gesture. She could still hear the radio playing in the galley, and it suddenly occurred to her that Eddie might have made his music selection on purpose.

"You look well-rested," he mentioned as he hauled her up. Margot clutched her purse close to keep it from falling into the water below her. Don't look down, don't look down, she prayed. "Better than the last time I saw you."

"And you look like your brother," she pointed out. She glanced around Annabella's deck in an effort to avoid noticing the rocking waves beneath them, and her mouth dropped open. "Eddie…? What is this?"

The entire deck was carpeted with dark red rose petals, the exact color of Margot's favorite sultry lipstick. A bottle of sparkling cider perched sweating in a bucket of ice on the outdoor table; twin crystalline wine glasses flashed in the light of the sun.

There was a teal blue Tiffany box sitting on the chair canted closest to her.

"That's why, darling, it's incredible...that someone so unforgettable...thinks that I am unforgettable too."

Margot's hand flew to her mouth. Eddie came up behind her, but she couldn't bring herself to tear her gaze away from the scene. Everything clicked into place suddenly. She was an idiot not to see it before.

"Well?" His voice was a seductive purr right next to her ear. "What do you think? Or are you speechless? I can work with silence. I'll even take it as encouraging if you don't mind."

Something was building inside of Margot...something not good. She felt faint, fluttery. Her lower back and armpits tingled; a buzzing sensation erupted between her eyes.

"Why don't you go look at your gift?" Eddie encouraged. "Better yet, why don't I bring it to you?" He touched her shoulder affectionately as he moved past her to go retrieve the blue box. Another, much larger ship was pulling out of the harbor. It honked a low, mournful signal that drowned out the climax of Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable".

The boat left a massive wake trailing behind it.

The deck pitched beneath her, and Margot groped behind her for the hand railing. Eddie made it to the table without so much as a hitch in his confident stride. His sea legs really were out of this world. He moved so gracefully on the water, so naturally. He was the same way in social situations—nobody could breeze through a crowd like Eddie and come away with exactly what he wanted.

He pulled the lid off the box and set it aside. Margot watched, with eyes she was sure were as round as the dinner platters he had set out for them, as Eddie removed a velvet ring box. He returned and knelt before her. He took her hand in his. His palm was so tan and wide it practically dwarfed her own. She looked so pale by comparison. Had her skin always been this clammy? Eddie didn't appear to notice anything amiss. "Margot Daley, ever since we were kids, I've found you unforgettable," he began. "I spent so much of my childhood running around playing games with you. When you weren't there, all I could think about was the next time I would see you again. I was devoted to you. I still am."

Stop. Stop it, Eddie. She was desperate to absorb everything he was saying to her, but she couldn't concentrate. This wasn't the old script, and Eddie…Eddie didn't sound like himself. What's more, his timing couldn't have been any worse. Her stomach rolled as if there were smaller waves pitching inside of it. Her hand stayed resolutely clamped over her mouth.

It was like watching a slow motion train wreck.

"Margot Daley, if it isn't obvious by now, I want to ask for your hand in marriage," Eddie was saying. If she had the courage to take her hand away in that moment, she would have knocked some sense into him. All of this over an unplanned pregnancy? Was Eddie out of his mind? He gazed up at her, his brown eyes serious and expectant.

It was too much.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." Margot only barely managed to get the apology out as she pulled her hand from his.

She turned, and retched over the side of the boat.

She continued to heave for several moments after she had finished. Tears stung the corners of her eyes. Rotten morning sickness. Eddie had gone through so much trouble to surprise her by setting up this "meeting", and she couldn't handle standing upright through one measly boat wake…

When Margot finally regained enough composure to turn back around, she found that Eddie had disappeared below deck. She pushed several strands of hair out of her eyes and exhaled in disappointment. She didn't know whether to feel more frustrated or relieved that his stilted attempts to propose had been interrupted. All of this...cliché...it was so not the Eddie Jameson she knew. And it definitely wasn't the Eddie Jameson who made her heart race with his unexpected antics. That boy was the one she had once dreamed of marrying: the one who promoted his total zest for life, and dragged others along with him into adventure.

When Eddie reappeared moments later, he wasn't carrying a bouquet of exotic flowers or a glossy-furred Golden Retriever puppy with a bow around its neck. He was carrying a grocery bag. Before Margot could puzzle out the situation, or trust herself enough to open her mouth and ask, Eddie was ushering her back off the boat to the relative stability of the dock.

The last thing she expected once they arrived was to find a carton of yogurt thrust into her hands. She blinked her astonishment in what must have been Morse code. "Oh, right." Eddie fished around his pockets and produced a small silver spoon. He passed it to her. "Here. Eat. Protein helps," he explained.

Margot gazed at him in wonderment. "You...did you really stock the fridge of your ship with yogurt? Just for me?"

"I have other stuff, too," Eddie said quickly. "Everything from ginger root to ginger ale if you're feeling nauseous. I can even make you a peanut butter and banana sandwich. I know you used to like those when we were growing up."

Margot's face heated. "I'm not a kid anymore, Eddie." Somehow it felt important to convey as much. She wanted him to think of her as her own woman, and not some sepia-colored photograph of a childhood obligation.

He watched her as she spooned a dollop of yogurt past her lips. It felt like the bravest thing she had done all morning. Her stomach gave a sharp twist as she swallowed, but almost immediately after she felt her insides overcome by a cool, soothing sensation. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose. When she opened them again, she noticed Eddie staring at her.

"I know you're not a kid, Margot." His hand touched her waist, almost shy in its hesitance. She knew she should pull away—at the very least to spare him if her stomach decided it still had more left in it to evacuate—but she did the exact opposite. She leaned in.

"What do you want from me, Eddie Jameson?"

"I want you to marry me," he replied. "I'm not above asking you again."

Margot could scarcely believe what he was saying. "Two marriage proposals in the same day?" she asked. She was trying to play it off lightly, but there was no easy joke to be found in their exchange.

"In the same day," Eddie confirmed. He smiled crookedly. "I never got a proper answer from you before."

"Maybe that's because I've never experienced a proper offer before." She knew she was stalling, and a part of her suspected that Eddie must know the same. This was all so sudden. First the unexpectedness of their one-night stand; then the baby; now marriage? It felt like the world's cruelest nursery rhyme played in reverse. First comes the baby carriage, then comes marriage, then comes…?

Did Eddie love her? Margot paused, her spoon hovering over the yogurt. When she next summoned the courage to glance up, she found Eddie watching her intently. "Eddie, I…"

He must have seen something in her face that encouraged him, although Margot couldn't imagine what. Her head was as turned around as her stomach, and even she didn't know how she intended to complete her sentence.

But when Eddie sensed an opening, he took it. He withdrew the clamshell Tiffany box from his pocket a second time and popped it open. Margot stared in disbelief at the diminutive ring that glinted at her, nestled in its velvet cushion. It was the most perfect princess cut diamond she had ever laid eyes on. It seemed to wink at her, its square edges understated yet somehow regal in their dimensions. The architect in her couldn't help but appreciate Eddie's aesthetic choice, even if the woman in her had never imagined herself becoming a bride. Not recently, anyway.

She still couldn't shake the memory of playing 'wedding' with a young Eddie Jameson. Wasn't this the natural conclusion to her childhood fantasy? Deep down, wasn't this what she had always wanted all along?

"I've always cared for you, Margot." He seemed to articulate her thoughts aloud now, and Margot froze. Eddie stepped nearer to her. "Maybe this baby is a sign. Maybe we really should consider joining our lives together. What do you say?"

Margot looked from the ring, to the yogurt, and back again. When her eyes finally alighted on one thing and one thing only, she beheld the image of Eddie Jameson: the boy she had known since childhood, all grown up now and ready to take the next terrifying leap into adulthood. Neither of them was prepared for this; she could see it in his face, despite his best attempts to hide his own misgivings. She knew him too well to not recognize the signs. His bold eyebrows knit together over the proud jut of his nose, and his lips held a smile that simply didn't match up with the concern his melting brown eyes were expressing. Two of the three Jameson boys were capable of poker faces in her experience, and Eddie wasn't one of them.

"Eddie…" Margot trailed off. She was suddenly unsure if she had the words to properly convey how much he meant to her, and how terrified she was of committing without the time to think first. He seemed to have it all figured out—Eddie Jameson seemed to have a plan for this. Did she? A year or two ago, the old Margot would have obsessed over every little detail until it was perfect.

But nothing about this situation with Eddie was perfect.

And yet...a part of her whispered. And yet…

And yet this was the boy, the one she had always loved, and never found a way to express as much. Somehow, the yogurt meant more to her than the peerless, priceless ring that glimmered just out of reach of her finger.

"All right," she said. "Why not? Let's give this marriage thing a shot."

It was probably the most anticlimactic form her answer could have taken, but Eddie expelled a long sigh of relief, and Margot realized she might have just single-handedly taken the weight of the world off his shoulders.

She tried not to notice how heavy the ring felt as he slipped it on her finger.