Page 100 of In What World

Marlowe understands me so well she can tell the difference without me explaining, smiling as she says, “Hold on. Let me get through the speech I’ve so carefully planned.”

And so she continues, kneeling on the vinyl planks of Jaz Sinclair’s basement with the entire cast ofGrease, children and adults, watching.

“With all this flying back and forth you’re doing, every moment with you feels precious,” she says. “I want to savor it as much as I can. We’ve proven in the last three months that we can manage it. But I want to lock it in. I want to know that when you’re not with me, I can tell people that mywifeis gone. The first person I call when things go right. The one I call when they go wrong. The one who lives and dies on all my hills, always willing to fight my fights alongside me. The voice I hear in my head. The face I see when I fall asleep. My number one for all of time. You. Priscilla Covington-French.”

The whole party quiets, not in shock, but in anticipation. Everyone is in on it. All of them know. The streamers. The balloons.

This isn’t just a cast party.

“I want to be with you longer than the years we never spoke,” she continues. “I want to hold you through every high, every low, and every medium. Even real ones. We can go see a million psychics together and laugh at whatever they tell us. So long as we’re together.” She smiles. “What do you say? Will you marry me?”

“You tricked me!” I say, my tears already falling.

“Says the woman who orchestrated an entire game of Truth or Dare just to kiss Marlowe,” Jaz interjects.

It’s the right thing to say, the words that set me back into myself, that remind me that Marlowe Jenkins is on one knee, holding out a box with a paper ring inside.

“I wanted you to pick out the real one yourself,” she explains. “I know how particular your taste is, and I figured we could make a proper spectacle of it. Go to jewelers. Scrutinizethem. Ensure that we get one of those new fake diamonds that doesn’t involve any cruelty.”

Look at her, I want to shout.Look at how she loves me. You would never know it if you’d seen us in this basement sixteen years ago.

Except, of course, you would have. It’s fate, set into our path, yet it’s up to us to choose it.

So that’s exactly what I do.

I choose her.

“Yes,” I say back, slamming the paper ring onto my finger. “Of course yes.”

As we kiss, salty tears roll into our mouths. Hers and mine, mixed together. “I love you,” I say, kissing her over and over.

“I love you, too,” she replies.

The cast and crew come up to give us hugs. Mrs. Sinclair comes down with two different veils for us to put on, as well as two different bow ties.

“I didn’t want to make any assumptions about who is who or what you’d like,” she says.

It’s so sweet I could cry. I take a veil. Marlowe grabs a bow tie.

“It would look better with a vest,” I say, kissing her again.

“I’m gonna be honest and say I completely agree,” she says back.

“Wife,” I try out, enjoying the way it sounds in my mouth. Succinct and crispy, like biting into an apple.

“Wife,” Marlowe echoes.

“Now hold on,” Dallas says. “You don’t get to go and say that just yet. There’s some paperwork. A ceremony. I haven’t had any time to make my gown.”

He hugs us both at the same time.

“And what’s my role?” he prompts.

“Officiant,” Marlowe and I say together.

“Correct,” he tells us, pleased.

“You know,” I say, leaning in to him conspiratorially, “I’d love to honeymoon somewhere unique. Maybe ancient Rome? We never really explored the full possibility of your machine.”