She watched him closely, finding nothing but earnestness behind his words. He was comfortable with the decision for what it was--he wasn't going to run away. They were getting married because they loved each other enough to vow that they would make it through whatever came their way, and that was that. No games, no alternate agendas, no detectable feelings of entrapment that would lead to betrayal, even after she had been broken and remolded to tune into such minute hints...
"Summer," Cathy repeated, the smile tender though her tone was lighthearted. "Don't make me wait too long to become your wife. I simply won't be able to bear it." She snuggled back up to him, continuing in a dreamy tone that was too theatrical to be serious. "I might start scribbling 'Cathy McDonald' over all of my notebooks in pink highlighters, and then where would we be?"
The options that he threw out overwhelmed her, and she told him so with a shake of her head, withdrawing and replying with an automatic, "I don't know." She bit her lip, gazing over his shoulder and momentarily falling deep into thought. "Not the park. And I know you hate the beach..." Though barefoot in the sand was sounding really nice.
"Perfect." She beamed, utterly giddy. "Too much fun? Me? When has that ever happened?"