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“That was four too many.”

“I genuinely gave you the best possibilities among the women who replied.”

“I’m not questioning that. You told me this ad would bring in the crazies, and you were right.” Again, we’re getting off topic. I need to stop being discombobulated by my nerves and her nearness and get back to what I planned to say. “The truth is, I came in to the office today, prepared to tell you to withdraw the ad because I want to marry you.”

She bites her lip and frowns. “Why?”

I’m prepared for this question. “We make sense. Our working rapport is phenomenal. We communicate well. Our relationship won’t cause much splash around the office if we’re married. Plus, the sex is…beyond.”

“But there has to be more between us than that for the marriage to succeed.”

I frown. I’m not sure what she’s getting at. “Statistically, most marriages that end in divorce fail because of issues arising from money or sex. Neither will be a problem for us. I understand we’ll have some adjustments to make⁠—”

“Yes. Because working together isn’t like living together. If your ability to clean up after yourself is any indication, you and I would have some major clashes. I like a tidy space, and if I only make half the mess I’m not fixing it all by myself.”

“I can endeavor to pick up more.” Getting in the habit would probably be good for me. Hygienically speaking, it’s not good to live in filth. I should have considered that obvious fact sooner. “If you show me what to do, I’ll help.”

“Great—”

“So, when do you want to get married. This weekend?”

“What? Hang on.” Her expression says I must be crazy. “Cleanliness isn’t the only issue. There has to be mutual respect.”

“I respect you. Very much.” I frown. “I never meant to give you any reason to think otherwise.”

“You haven’t, but I needed to say it. And like I mentioned before, I’m making it a policy to only get involved with guys I’m friends with first. From now on, I want to really get to know someone before I dive in.”

“You and I know each another well.”

“But not personally. I don’t know your favorite potato chip.”

“I don’t eat them, actually. You know they’re not good for you, right? The fat content is high, and the calories are empty⁠—”

“Evan, of course I know they aren’t good for me. I’m making a point that there are lots of things we don’t know about each other. And for the record, we can’t be friends if you don’t eat potato chips. Or donuts. You took one of Bas’s the other day, then failed to eat it.”

“I prefer a clean diet, but I will incorporate more of your favorite things if it will make you happy. See, I know marriage is about compromise. I’m willing to do that.”

“That’s helpful…but not enough to base a marriage on. We’ve never even been on a date.”

“I never dated Becca, and it worked out fine.”

Well, we never dated in the traditional sense. We held hands in high school because it made her feel happy and safe. We sneaked in some petting because I wanted to know what girls and sex felt like. But her foster father didn’t approve of her having a boyfriend and tried to keep her too distracted at home to be with me often.

Nia purses her full lips into a grim line. “I’m glad that’s how it worked for you two, but I won’t get married until I’m sure it’s right. If you’re still marrying for the reasons you stated in your bride-wanted ad, we’re going to fail. I’m more than a hostess, a maid, and a lay.”

“Of course you are. That’s the other reason I think you and I will suit well. We’ll be far more comfortable with each other than I would be with a stranger. We can keep our working relationship intact. And we can explore all the other ways we’re good together.” Because, guilt and confusion aside, being inside Nia is something I’m eager to do again—the sooner the better. “If you’d feel more comfortable dating first, we can try that. We’ll have to navigate the office, keep our personal relationship quiet. We’ll date as much as you like until the move to Maui. Before we leave for good, I’ll ask you to marry me again.”

I hope her answer will be different then. I don’t know what I’ll do if she says no. That’s something I never worried about with Becca.

“I’m not convinced I can be sure I want to marry you—or anyone—in six weeks.”

“That’s all the time we have. I’m not planning to move alone.” I let that sink in. “If I haven’t convinced you by January second, then…you stay here in Seattle and I’ll find you another appropriate supervisor.” And I’ll figure out how not to lose my mind. “We’ll float the story that you didn’t want to move, and I decided I needed someone local. Done.”

There’s no way not to hear the frustration in her sigh. “I don’t like ultimatums.”

“I’m not intending to back you into a corner. I’m simply stating my position; I only intend to be single until I move to Maui. I’ve agreed that we’ll date, despite the fact I think it may be somewhere between unnecessary and a waste of time. I know what and who I want, Nia. That’s you. But I’m slowing down, compromising, and dating to make you happy.”

“What about Saturday nights?”