“Are you married?” “I will be.” Resting a leather-sleeved forearm on the gas tank, he leans in. “Does five o’clock tonight work for you?” I sip the coffee and hum. “Is that a proposal?” “It’s a foregone conclusion.” He rubs his jaw with a gloved hand. “I always wondered what you would look like.” “You wondered what I would look like?” “My forever.”
