I marched right into the guest bedroom with my grandmother's lucky wedding ring in my pocket to find Mila reading a small book on the bed. I could faintly read SSD—the first three letters of the book. She quickly looked away from the page as I closed the door behind me.

"What I said earlier..." I had rehearsed everything I wanted to say at least twenty times over, yet when I looked into her puffy eyes I forgot how to form sentences.

"It's okay. I said some wild things and I understand that some things are just for the imagination. I should stick to the books." She offered a smile but I wasn't going to take it. Instead, I shifted my weight and decided that any explanatory words would be better than nothing.

"It's just that I'm afraid that if we go through with this you'll regret it and we'll have to live with ourselves knowing that we couldn't even handle another relationship." I sighed and found myself pacing the floor. She didn't say a word in response and I knew it was the only acceptable time to ramble on and hope something sweet would come out.

"Mimi, it hurts me when you cry like this. When you didn't say anything to me earlier in the kitchen, it killed me. When you laugh it's like my guts are being pulled through my stomach and it hurts to know that I can care about someone so much..." I looked back at her but she was still silent. Her book was now on the nightstand and she was watching me intently.

"I buy clothes I think you'd look good in and wait for you to ask to borrow them so I can refuse to take them back... I hate most cheeses but I keep my fridge stocked with them because I know that you like to eat them when you can't fall asleep in the middle of the night." There was a hint of a smile on Mila's lips and I kept powering through, letting my ego take a blow with each statement. There was no carefree Iris and there never was. It was a front that I was letting fall down in front of Mila.

"I hate talking to you sometimes because I feel like there's never a right answer. When I try to say what I'm feeling I just forget how to speak and I say something horribly wrong and let everything fall apart. I'm sorry." I finally made eye contact and waited for some sort of response. Even a dismissal would mean something to me.

"It's okay. It was my fault for thinking—"

"But if you truly want a commitment to someone, I'm here." I swallowed hard and watched Mila's eyebrows furrow as the anxiety began bubbling over in me. "Because each year, we have more screw ups and bonding moments and it's left me with something I can't explain, but I do love you, Mila. I know that at least." I watched Mila smile and sit up a tad straighter, but I wasn't done until I set everything right. No more fruitless arguments and parents complaining about meaningless marital status. It was just us.

"So I thought it only right to ask you to marry me because it wasn't fantastic the first time it was brought up." I reached for the old ring in my pocket and knelt down by the bed. I understood my father's fear he would recall every time he spoke of his proposal to my mother. It was frightening to put everything on the line as you're on your knee for someone. Luckily for me, Mila practically dove off of the bed to hug me.

No extravagant or elaborate dance or gesture or even a coherent speech, but it was me.

"I'm sorry that I'm so expensive," Mila whispered, causing me to laugh.

"Does it look like I care? You're worth it. You and your dumb cheese." I kissed her cheek and smiled when Mila giggled. It was loud and real. She had her arms around my neck and she held on tight.

"I'll sorry if I'm not enough. I'm... New to this." Mila pulled away and shook her head.

"I don't ask for much." Mila kissed my temple and took a comfortable seat on my lap. "Now I just have to prove to you that you made the right choice." She leaned back against me and looked back at me. "Because I've felt this for years and I... I can't stop it." She sighed and I went silent, accepting that Mila had no intentions of letting me up.

"You need to eat something," I tapped her thigh and she took the hint and stood up. I got up and practically pushed her out of the room. She laughed and ran into the kitchen as I chased her. She leaned against the island and grinned at me.

"Out of our wide variety of canned food, what's for dinner?" Mila asked as she pulled out several pots and pans.

"I don't care. You pick," I said as I nudged the chicken noodle soup can towards her, knowing how obsessed she was with the soup.

"You know me so well," Mila replied with a smirk. She grabbed the can and the matchbox from the counter.

"I just pay attention." I kissed her temple and let her cook for herself, planning out how I wanted the night to go. I never again wanted Mila to sleep in the guest room.

"Are you sure you don't want any?"

"I was stress eating earlier. I'm good." I watched Mila nod as she slipped into her own little world.