The Wedding Crasher

“Now I need to ask you something,” he says, his mouth curved into a smile that fills me with pure, unadulterated joy.
“What is it?”
He holds my hands and squeezes. “Will you, Solange Pereira, take me as your boyfriend, to have and to hold, through sickness and in health, through the good times and bad, as long as we both shall share a Netflix account?”
I hold back a laugh and nod. “Throw in Apple TV+, and we’ve got a deal.”
“Done.”

These feelings you’ve inspired in me make me feel reckless and impulsive and disoriented in the best way. And I’m sorry that I once told you I couldn’t love you. Because that isn’t true. I already do.”

“Solange, at this very moment, I have no idea what my job will be, whether I’ll be able to afford my mortgage much longer, or whether I’ll ever get married and have kids. And you know what? I’m not terrified. Why? Because if there’s any chance that you’ll be a part of my life, I can handle all of the other unknowns, even if that means we can’t be in the same place right now.”