“I have to ask you a question.”
“I want you to know it will happen,” he said. It was our first night in Paris. We were having dinner. “Just not on this trip.”
“I understand,” I said, taking a sip of something, forcing a smile. “I didn’t think it would anyway. We’ve never even talked about it before.” We hadn’t. Three years just flew by. It was so nice.
He kissed my hand and poured me some wine.
“I love you,” he said. “Thank you for understanding. And for putting up with me!”
“I love you, too!” I said. Maybe I was upset, but we were still together, in Paris. It was the nicest thing, truly.
We finished up and paid the bill.
“Ready to see it?” he asked. It was a block away.
“Yes!” I said. I was excited. Neither of us had seen the Eiffel Tower in person. “It’s going to be so romantic,” I said. He smiled and kissed me and took my hand.
A couple minutes later we were on the lawn. He asked someone to take a picture of us. The sunset was in the background.
Pretty, I thought.
“Kelsey,” he said.
“I have to ask you a question …”
My advice: go ahead.