I slammed the stack of plates onto the kitchen counter and tossed a handful of cutlery on top, not bothering to disguise how absolutely infuriated I was.

Normally I enjoyed working the occasional shift at my boyfriend's family's coffee house; things had improved considerably once I finally mastered the art of making macchiatos. It was just today of all days that work wasn't doing a damn thing for me.

No, I would've much preferred being at home, taking a bubble bath and moping, like I normally did whenever I was upset.

Being around so many glass dishes just made me want to smash things.

"Stupid, idiotic, dumb ass professor," I grumbled as I shoved the plates onto a shelf beside the sink. "Same dumb ass professor who said himself that correlation does not prove causation, only to turn around and mark the shit out of my paper because I make the same point? Ugh."

A hand reached out seemingly out of nowhere and caught my wrist as I made to grab a cutting knife from the dishwasher, startling me and making me jump about a foot in the air with a loud shout.

"Sweetheart, I'm a little afraid of what you'd do with that knife if your professor suddenly came through the front door."

"Jesus, Archer!" I gasped, leaning up against the counter, clutching at my chest. "You scared the shit out of me!"

My boyfriend's lips pulled up into a grin as he took the cutting knife from the dishwasher, reaching behind me to slide it into the knife block. "I did call your name about four times, Hadley."

It wouldn't have mattered either way - Archer had this habit of walking around without making any noise and it scared the living daylights out of me more often than not. He didn't outwardly say it, but I knew he thought it was amusing and tried to see how high he could make me jump each time.

"Oh," I said. "Sorry."

He shook his head, his grin widening as he took care of the cutlery still on the counter. "Professor Harris giving you more trouble?"

"Like you even need to ask," I grumbled.

I was close to finishing up my first semester of schooling for my masters at Stony Brook University, and with finals so close, I was about ready to start ripping my hair out. It was considerably more intense than working for my bachelors was, but nothing I couldn't handle.

Or so I'd thought. Professor Cal Harris was seriously picking at my last shreds of sanity. Dropping out was becoming more and more appealing by the day, but I knew I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I actually caved. I'd be much better off if the guy's damn class wasn't required for graduation.

Archer was supportive of my going straight for my masters after graduation last June. He was perfectly content with his time at the Pratt Institute as the conclusion of his schooling, but understood that getting my master's would only improve my chances of getting hired after becoming a certified counselor.

Even if Archer and I didn't always see eye-to-eye on certain things, at least we shared similar thoughts about the future - that is, we both knew it was going to be hard and frustrating and impossible, and we had to do the most we could to prepare for it.

I didn't see it as being pessimistic. I saw it as being realistic. Either way, my patience was seriously wearing thin at the moment. I probably would've done something drastic if Professor Harris had strolled through the door while I had a knife in my hand.

"Okay, okay, stop for a second," Archer said suddenly, catching me before I could pile anymore coffee mugs into my arms. "You're going to drop those if you keep at it."

He took the mugs from me and set them on the counter, then laced his fingers through mine to pull me forward and slide an arm around my waist.

"You wanna tell me what happened?"

I groaned, dropping my head onto his shoulder, curling my fingers into his shirt. "Why the hell did I decide to get my masters? I'm seriously regretting ever applying right now. I mean, I would've been just fine with my bachelors, right?"

I could feel his chest shaking with silent laughter as he hugged me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

"Hadley, you were the one that wanted your masters," he pointed out, and I could tell he thought this entire thing was funny.

"I know," I said sourly. "You don't need to remind me. Ugh. It's just...Professor Harris is just so stupid!"

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from going off about Professor Harris, because God only knew how long it would last, and poor Archer had certainly spent enough time listening to me bitch about his class.

It wasn't like Archer didn't spend his fare share of time bitching about the things that pissed him off either - which, incidentally, was everything - but I figured he could use a break. Christmas was just a few weeks away, and wouldn't that be a nice present?

"You'll be finished with his class in about two weeks," Archer reminded me, hooking a finger under my chin to tilt my face up towards his. "Now isn't the time to chicken out."

"Hey, I am not a chicken," I protested. "I'm a tough-as-nails New Yorker and honorary Italian. I can do anything."

And wasn't that the truth? As much as I disliked Professor Harris' class, it wasn't the hardest thing I'd ever had to face in my life.

No, that was better reserved for the time when I was a junior in high school and I'd made a deal with Death himself to go back in time to stop Archer from committing suicide. I'd nearly died because of it, but I didn't regret a damn thing, and I knew I'd do it again in a heartbeat if I had to.

I didn't often think about the deal anymore, but there were moments, infrequent as they were, where I was reminded of what happened. Something happening that threw Archer off balance, disrupted the routine he usually preferred to have going for himself, was one of them. Archer didn't handle change very well. Thankfully, that hadn't happened recently, but it was anyone's guess whenever it would.

Archer pressed his lips together in a tight line in attempts to keep from smiling, but failed miserably about a second later, and then cracked up laughing. "I hate to break it to you, bambolina, but you're the farthest thing from tough-as-nails. You may be a New Yorker, but you can't help caring for just about every person you meet."

I made a face up at him, even though I knew he was right. It was the entire reason I'd decided to become a counselor in the first place. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. And you know I hate it when you call me bambolina."

"Yeah, I know," Archer said with a shrug. "That's why I do it."

"It's hardly fair," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. "You don't let me call you anything but Archer. You hate terms of endearment."

"I know," he repeated. "But I like calling you pet names."

I rolled my eyes as I leaned away from him, reaching over to get back to unloading the dishwasher. "Again I say, whatever. Now, if you don't mind, I've got work to do here."

"You do realize we closed up about an hour ago, right?"

"What?"

Archer did that thing where he muttered under his breath in Italian, probably some curse word or another, and then said, "You were so distracted in here my mom told me to leave you alone to your thoughts."

Well, thanks, Regina, I thought. You could always count on Archer's mother to inadvertently help me out, and I doubted she would ever stop telling her son what to do. I'd learned a long time ago that Italian mothers very much liked to be involved in their children's lives long after they'd left home.

"Sorry, then," I said. "I should get this finished, and then we can head home."

Archer and I weren't living together, seeing as I was going to school in Long Island and he was rooming with his cousin, Carlo, in Brooklyn, working as a photographer for a local newspaper and then riding the bus into Manhattan to work at the coffee house part-time.

Some weekends I would take the train over here and stay with Archer until Sunday night when I would have to head back to Long Island. This was one of those weekends. Carlo usually spent his weekends out and about with his numerous friends at the community college he attended, so most of the time, Archer and I had their apartment to ourselves.

It was far too much traveling around the city for both of us, and it certainly got expensive. It was hardly ideal, but somehow we were making it work, and it would only be for another year and a half until I finished my masters. Archer was currently mapping out an extensive plan to start his own photography business in soon enough time. I had no doubt he would succeed, even if it would be difficult, because the man most certainly had the talent to back it up.

I didn't really know what the future held in store for us, but I knew we would eventually figure it out - not without squabbling and bickering about the little things like we were so prone to do - and we'd do it together, the way it was supposed to be.

I moved onto the bottom row of the dishwasher and started gathering bowls to set on the shelf beside the plates, while Archer scooped up more cutlery.

He was much faster at unloading than I was, and I found myself stopping, stepping back to watch him work as quickly and efficiently as he usually always was.

Sometimes I had difficulty understanding how Archer and I had ended up this far. We were opposites in almost every way, but at the same time, we were so scarily alike it was unsettling. He was the farthest thing from a romantic, and talking about feelings might as well have made him break out in hives. It had even take him until he was twenty to actually say he loved me, and not I'm in love with you, which I always considered to mean something a little bit different.

Archer usually preferred to throw himself into things without any preconceived notions so he wouldn't be disappointed if things didn't go the way he wanted. I didn't think he thought of our relationship that way, and even if he didn't say it, I knew he was just as surprised we'd gotten to where we were, as well.

It wasn't without lack of fighting or various obstacles, but we were solid, and as idiotic as it sounded, I couldn't see that changing anytime soon.

"Hadley."

I jerked back to the present when Archer said my name, watching me with a wary look on his face. "Sorry, what? Did you say something?"

He rolled his eyes, setting another coffee mug on the counter. "Yeah. Why were you staring at me like that? It was kind of weird."

"Just checking you out," I said, rather than telling him what I was really thinking.

He stopped what he was doing to give me an exasperated look, narrowing his eyes at me. "Really?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, so what?"

It wasn't like it was a lie.

I'd come to the conclusion years ago that the only one that wasn't aware of how classically handsome Archer was? His own damn self. And the years had only been kind to him. He'd gotten taller since we'd graduated high school, and he'd filled out in a fine way, thanks to carrying around heavy photography equipment and unloading delivery trucks at the coffee house.

His facial features had become sharper and more defined, as well, and his jaw line was about the best thing on the planet. Even his hair had gotten a bit longer, too, curling at his neck in that kinky way I loved. He still frowned far too often and was probably going to wind up with premature wrinkles because of it, but like that hardly mattered. He'd still be handsome either way.

"So what, what?" Archer said, still giving me a look. "Why'd you have to say it like that?"

"What, that I was checking you out?" I said, confused.

"What else?"

I blew out a sigh, wondering why Archer always had to nitpick over the smallest things. "You ought to know by now how hot I think you are. I don't get why my saying it aloud weirds you out."

"A lot of things you do weird me out, Hadley, but I put up with it because I love you, and I want to marry you."

The glass I just picked up from the dishwasher slipped from my grasp and fell into the sink.

"What?" Archer turned to me with a confused expression, like he honestly hadn't realized what he just said. "You okay?"

"Did you..." I sucked in a deep breath, curling my fingers into my palms to try and stop my hands from shaking. "Did you just propose to me and insult me in the same sentence?"

He frowned as he picked up the glass I'd dropped in the sink, setting it on the counter.

It felt like time had slowed down to a crawl and was inching by just to torture me as I waited for Archer's response. I'd never been able to guess anything he would say, but it definitely wasn't that.

In the entire time we'd been together, we'd never talked about marriage. It wasn't as if either of us were opposed to it - it was just something that had never come up. I guess the both of us just assumed we would be together whether or not we were married.

I was fairly certain my heart was about to leap out of my chest as I waited and waited, watching him expectantly.

And when he finally, finally turned looked at me, a small smile was curling at his lips, and he even managed to look slightly embarrassed. "Yeah."

I didn't clap my hands over my mouth and burst into tears like the girls in movies always did whenever their man proposed to them.

I just stared at Archer, hardly able to believe that I'd just been proposed to, and by the one guy I used to think found me obnoxious and annoying and wanted nothing to do with me. Well, it was a given he still thought I was obnoxious and annoying, but now...now he wanted me around. He wanted me around for good.

"What, you're not going to get down on one knee?" I said hoarsely, biting my lower lip. "No ring?"

I wasn't sure if I wanted to bust out laughing or throw my arms around him and never let him go.

"Ah, well...I may or may not have just inexplicably broken both my kneecaps, so, um...no getting down on bended knee. Sorry."

I slapped a hand to my forehead, scrunching my eyes shut. Had I really expected anything different, though? Archer would never be the type of guy to give a girl anything resembling a normal proposal. "You idiot."

"Yeah, but I'm your idiot. I'm your idiot with a ring, actually."

Archer reached around to his back pocket and came up with his wallet, flipping it open and then pulling out a gorgeous ring with a small, intricate diamond set into the top that caught the light as he turned back towards me.

"Hardly the ideal place, I know, but it's done okay."

"Wait. How long have you had that?"

"Since my grandmother gave it to me and told me to get my life in order."

"Which was...?"

"Oh, probably about a year ago."

That time I had to throw out an arm and grab at the counter to steady myself.

"You...Archer, you've been carrying around a ring in your wallet for a year?"

He shrugged, like it was nothing, though I could tell he was nervous by the way his jaw was set, and his posture rigid. "Just waiting for the right moment."

I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly feeling very dry. "And while we're squabbling over unloading the dishwasher was the right moment?"

"I don't know if you realized, Hadley, but we're always squabbling over something," Archer pointed out. "And as annoying as it is sometimes, I know I'd be lost without you around to do it."

"Flattery really isn't your strong suit, Archer," I said, but I was grinning.

"Probably not," he admitted. "But...will you?"

"Will I what?"

"Will you marry me?"

"Eh. Sure. I've got nothing better to do."

But then he was sliding the ring onto my ring finger, and I was laughing, throwing my arms around him so I could yank him down to my level to kiss him.

I'd come to work a shift at the coffee house expecting to spend it moaning and complaining about my awful professor - not getting proposed to. Somehow, it ended up being exactly the right thing, though.

When we broke apart, Archer had this smile on his face I'd only ever seen a handful of times, and it was the cherry on top of a perfect, yet awkward and frankly unusual proposal.

I thought of eventually having to tell the story of his proposal when the time came, and no doubt, it would say everything about our relationship anybody needed to know.

"Your family is going to go batshit over this, you know," I said, examining the ring now glistening on my left hand.

Archer's smile slipped and quickly turned into a grimace. "Er, right."

"Didn't give that much thought, did you?" I said, my grin returning.

"This was a spur of the moment thing, so no," he said. "Not really."

"Yeah, well, there's no backing out now, Morales," I said gleefully. "You're stuck with me now. But hey, don't worry. I think I've got an idea how to handle it."

Archer barely opened his mouth to respond before I was shouting, "Hey, Regina! Your son just asked me to marry him!"

Regina's built-in mother radar must have been exceptionally fine-tuned, because a second later, I heard footsteps on the stairs just outside the kitchen, and then she was bursting into the kitchen, in her pajamas, an excited and incredulous expression on her face.

"What did you just say, Hadley?"

Archer turned back to me with an annoyed look on his face. "Really? Just like that?"

"You have a better idea?"

"...No."

"That's what I thought."

Regina demanded to see the ring then, gushing over how beautiful it was and how our wedding, whenever it was, would be the absolute talk of the town.

Knowing Archer's family and all of their crazy quirks, they'd probably manage it, too.

And I couldn't imagine anything better.

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Does this chapter even need a note?

I hope you all liked it, though - so don't forget to leave a comment saying what you think! :)

Lots of love,

Ally <3