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“That is not helping.”

“Do you want the story or not?”

“Yes.”

“Then shut up and listen.”

“Fine.”

“We were making dinner. He started talking about how I practically live there and how we needed a better solution than me sleeping on his couch.”

“You sleep on his couch?”

“Avery.”

“Sorry.” Her eyes widened. “So, you thought he was asking you to move in.”

“I thought we were buying another bed.”

“And instead, he pulled out a ring?”

Claire nodded, unable to stop smiling. “He said we were already building a life together. That he wanted the ordinary Tuesdays and the coffee and grocery shopping and all the versions of someday we’d talked about.”

Avery’s expression softened. “Okay. That’s disgustingly perfect.”

“I know.”

“And then?”

“I said yes.”

“Obviously.”

“And then the smoke alarm went off.”

“. . .Why?”

Claire paused. “Undisclosed reasons.”

“You were totally making out in the kitchen.”

“We were not.”

Avery stared at her.

“Okay, so we kissed.”

Avery waited. Claire looked away.

“How long did you kiss?”

“Long enough for the pasta to boil over, and the smoke alarm to go off.”

Avery stared at her for one silent second before bursting into laughter. “You ruined dinner?”

“We ordered takeout.”

“That may be the most on-brand proposal story I’ve ever heard.” Avery looked at her more carefully. “Are you scared?”