Angela walked resolutely back into the dining room, the wooden floorboards creaking under her quick steps.

She cast a quick glance over at Dwight and noticed that he hadn’t touched his food since she had left. Indeed, he looked exactly as he had when she excused herself….scared, and completely unlike himself.

“Is everything okay?” His voice broke the silence between them, its tone seemingly unsure of itself, a fact that made her even more determined to figure out what was wrong with him.

She sat back down in her chair, draped the napkin across her lap, and laced her fingers together as her intertwined hands came to rest on the table.

“No, Dwight, everything is not alright.” Her words were crisp, curt, and rode a razor’s edge of sharpness, but it was the only way she knew to show that she was strong. And it was obvious that he needed someone’s strength right now, to prop him up to the man that he truly was.

She gave hers willingly to him, as she had with everything else.

“Oh? Are you?” he hesitated for a second and looked at her knowingly, as if he was trying to convey something without words. It took her a moment longer then usual to understand.

“No, it is not that time of the month, you know that.” She lamentably sighed. She never understood why men would always assume that whenever something was wrong.

Her hands unclasped, and she twirled the fork absent-mindedly, re-willing the strength that she had come into the room with to return to her.

He cleared his throat again before he spoke. “I know, I just wasn’t sure. Wh-what’s the problem?”

Angela pushed a piece of cauliflower around, and lazily covered it with a forkful of noodles. She squinted thoughtfully at the plate, desperately looking for an answer to his feelings in the food that he had prepared for her.

But there was nothing there, or at least nothing that she trusted. Alex had cooked for her dozens of times, always with a smile, always with laughter, and always with a warmness that she had soaked up completely, only to have it painfully rung from her in an instant.

“The problem….” She looked up at him, and into his eyes. The ones that were resolute and official when they reflected the harsh fluorescent glare of the office everyday, and soft and languid in the brilliance of the rising sun that split through her blinds in the morning when they lay in bed.

“….is…” her lips willed the words to come, to tumble out of her, but her mind rebelled, and tried to play it safe, like it always did, like it always had.

But not this time. This time, Angela slowly dragged her sweaty palm down the tablecloth and into her lap. She clutched a napkin in a tight fist and asked the question. She was tired of not knowing, of worrying, of questioning the last two years.

“…..why don’t you love me?” With each syllable his reaction changed, and with every God-given fiber in her being she forced herself to keep from shaking, and to keep her eyes on him.

“I-What?” He squinted hard, his face blotched with shock.

“You heard me.” She wouldn’t repeat herself; she knew that he had heard her. That he always had, and she desperately hoped, always would.

“Monkey, I love you. Y-you know that. Do you need me to prove it to you? Is….” His entire expression changed in an instant, the flummoxed features set themselves resolutely in a hard display of determination. “…there someone else?”

Now it was her turn to be surprised. Someone else?! How could he ever think that? Didn’t he know that he was the only one for her? That he was the man that she had waited her entire life for? Had patiently and piously prayed for over and over again? A man who respected her, who was a gentlemen, and….she hoped….loved her for her.

As much as she tried to restrain herself, his words splashed surprise on her expression, and her panicked voice squeaked in reply. “Someone else?! D, I-No there is no one else. I want to know why you’ve been acting this way! Why didn’t you send me an e-mail today? I want to know what I did wrong! Why don’t you…..” but she couldn’t continue, her high-pitch cracked over the tears that now ran down her face, cool against her flushed and hot cheeks. Her throat was tight with fear, worry, and uncertainty.

She dropped her head, her shoulders heaving slightly in silent sobs that were interrupted by sharp and wild intakes of breath. The noise of the chair across the room split the solemn silence and suddenly he was at her side, kneeling with a large hand across her back.

“Monkey, Monkey….” He leaned into her, murmuring softly, and wrapped his other arm around her tiny frame, as she buried her face into his shoulder. The comfort of his awkward embrace slowly eroded the tempest of emotion inside of her. He kept whispering softly into her ear, and after a minute, she felt the acute pangs that had racked her subside into a warm tranquility. The kind that he always seemed to instill in her with his comfort and security. She pushed away from him, and he disentangled himself from her.

The look on his face almost made her break into tears all over again. It was if through his touch he had absorbed her pain, and now was sharing it with her, like he shared everything else.

“Why would you say that I don’t love you?” His voice was unusually soft. It was the kind of tenderness that he only used in their most intimate of moments.

“We’ve been together, as…man and woman, for two years.” He nodded at her words, willing her to continue, to finally say what had tormented her lately.

“And I thought that…” she paused again, her cheeks felt like they were on fire, her shame and fear burning blue-hot inside of her.

“…this relationship had a future. Don’t you want….a future with me Dwight?” She choked on the word that she wanted to say, the m-word, the one that meant that their relationship would be forever and right in the eyes of God.

“Of course I do, why would you think that I don’t?” She watched as his face contorted itself into a desperate, maddening desire to understand what she meant.

She knew then that she had to say it. It made her feel like less of a woman, like less of a girlfriend, and like less of a lover to have to bring it up first, but as she looked at his face, Pam’s word echoed inside of her, as if she just spoken them.

“What is better, embarrassing yourself a little and getting what you want? Or…..saying nothing and….watching someone you love possibly drift further away? If you love someone, and care for them…then you have to say something.”

“Marriage….” It came out quiet, like a whisper. Like a prayer.

His face fell for a moment, along with her heart, but then, in an instant, it came back up with a smile so wide that she had to swallow back her surprise. She had never seen him smile so widely, he had always said it was a sign of weakness.

“Marriage?” He asked through tight lips.

“Yes, I…why are you smiling?” She had a million questions, but for some reason, that was the one that came out, that suddenly seemed so important.

“You want to get married?” He asked, his smile softening somewhat tenderly.

“Are you…. are you asking me?” She was so confused, by everything, by his reaction, by his words. What was going on? Was he asking her, right now?

“No, I’m not.” He leaned back from her slightly, and pushed himself up.

“Oh” was her only reply. Her eyes found her lap, and she stared at her napkin with wide-eyes, her heart pounding at his words.

“Because all the times that I practiced asking you, I was on one knee.” She looked up quickly, and saw that he had kneeled on one knee in front of her and that his hand was in his pocket. In a moment, he pulled out a small black box.

“I’ve had this box in my pocket everyday for the last two months, Angela. But every time I have tried to ask you….I’ve become….worried.”

“Worried?” she choked out; her voice was raspy and pulverized into a whisper by the emotion of the past couple of minutes.

“Yes.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “Angela Noelle Martin, you are the strongest, most capable, and most beautiful woman that I have ever met. I know, that you know I’m not….religious, but you are a miracle in my life.” He reached out and took her shaking right hand and steadied it. “I want to spend the rest of my life as your husband, and be the begetter of your children. And the reason I was worried, was because you are the only woman for me and I didn’t want to screw it up. But…I love you, and I…. Angela, will you marry me?”

She heard the creak of the hinges of the box, but didn’t look down to see what she already knew would be the perfect symbol of their union. Instead, she launched herself out of the chair and into his arms, knocking him over and onto the floor.

He smiled again as she lay on top of him, but it was nothing compared to the one that stretched her own wet cheeks. She leaned down and kissed him slowly, savoring their connection, the truth of it, and the eternity of it. After a moment, she pulled back and whispered slowly to him.

“Yes.”