Kate set down her slice of pizza and rubbed her bleary eyes, unable to suppress another gaping yawn. It was still pitch black outside the hotel window, but the dawn couldn’t be far off. Shouldn’t be much longer now, she thought. Maybe another hour or two, and Aidan would come walking through the door. She was determined to wait up for him – refusing to give in to sleep. Now that her mind was made up, she never wanted to go to sleep again unless he was sleeping there beside her.

She sat up straighter on the couch and forced her eyes back to the movie she had started watching on the hotel pay-per-view. Her old favorite once again, The Princess Bride. 

Her phone was resting on the coffee table in front of her, and she saw the screen light up with an incoming call. Was it him? Had he landed? Had he run into some new delay? She picked it up and looked at the caller ID. Marcy.

Kate sighed, remembering her friend’s last text message.

“Still on for drinks tomorrow night? Can’t wait for the post mortem!!”

Kate hadn’t bothered to reply until late – well after Marcy must have gone to bed. “Sorry, no drinks,” she had texted back. “Not dead just yet.”

She was surprised to see Marcy’s name on her phone now. Was it already morning on the East Coast? She reached for the remote to put the movie on mute as she picked up the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey, what’s up?” Marcy’s voice said in her ear. “Not dead yet, huh? Should I be concerned?”

Kate laughed. “Probably.”

“Are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” Kate replied.

“So should we pick a different night? The suspense is killing me!”

Kate took a deep breath, bracing herself for the coming conversation. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back in New York.”

“What do you mean? Did your flight get cancelled?”

“No,” Kate said. “I’m not coming back. I’m staying in LA.”

“What do you mean you’re staying?”

“I mean I'm staying. I’m staying here with Aidan.”

“Kate, that’s crazy!”

“A little bit.”

“I don’t understand.” Kate could hear Marcy’s voice becoming more flustered. “Aren’t you supposed to be in court today?”

“Yep.”

“So how are you gonna do that from LA?”

“Well, it’s not really going to be an issue, since I’m probably getting fired in a couple hours.”

Marcy was silent on the other end of the line.

“Hello?” Kate said. “Are you there?”

“I can’t believe you would do this,” Marcy responded at last. “All the hours you’ve put in? All the years? And you’re just going to throw it away?”

“That’s the plan.”

“For a guy. You’re throwing it away for a guy.”

Kate shrugged. “What do I have to lose, really?”

“Everything!”

“No,” Kate replied. “I can always get another job. He’s the one with everything to lose.”

“Oh spare me—“

“No really, Marcy. I talked to his publicist earlier. She was freaking out because he decided to blow up his whole career and get on a plane to New York. To be with me. He would give it all up for me, just like that. Without a second thought.”

“Well, he always was impulsive.”

The sound from the television was on mute, but Kate’s eyes were still following the silent images moving across the screen as she carried on her side of the conversation. It was just getting to the good bit. She smiled to herself, remembering what came next. The part where Buttercup realizes the love of her life isn’t dead after all – just far away somewhere, thinking of her, trying to fight his way back to her.

She could almost hear Aidan’s voice laughing in her ear now, the way it had sounded when they watched this scene together the other day. “Oh look,” he had said. “Here comes your favorite part.” He still remembered all these years later – remembered things about her that she had forgotten long ago.

“Kate? Hello?”

“Not impulsive,” Kate said into the phone. “Decisive. There’s a difference.”

“It’s only been a few weeks!”

“No, it hasn’t. It’s been years. It never stopped. I never got over him. Not really. That’s what he’s been trying to tell me.”

“Kate—“

“I have to see this through, Marcy. Maybe it will blow up in my face, but I have to try.”

She heard her friend exhale forcefully on the other end of the line. “I just don’t even know what to say. Every other day, you call me up and tell me what a douchebag he is. And then you call again the next day and say he’s the love of your life. It’s insane. You both sound completely insane.”

Kate smiled, watching the TV screen. She always used to laugh at this scene in the movie – romantic, for sure, but completely unrealistic. How could Buttercup have the love of her life standing right in front of her and be too blind to recognize him? How could anyone possibly be that stupid?

“He’s not a douchebag,” Kate said.

“Well—“

“Maybe I’m the douchebag. Did that ever occur to you? He’s been steady as a rock. He always was. I’m the one who left him. I’m the one who keeps jerking him around.”

“It’s called protecting yourself,” Marcy said.

“Well, maybe I need to protect myself a little less. Maybe I’m wrapped up in so many layers of bubble wrap, I’m going to suffocate.”

“So take off the bubble wrap! That’s fine. That doesn’t mean you have to throw yourself off the side of a cliff!”

There went Wesley, tumbling head over heels. And there went Buttercup, tumbling after. She took the plunge even though it might have killed her. Might have killed them both. Buttercup closed her eyes and took the leap, and she trusted that he would be there at the bottom to catch her.

“Marcy, it’s done,” she said. “I’ve made up my mind. I just hope it isn't too little, too late.”

***

Aidan pulled the door shut behind him and leaned against it heavily. He peered into the hotel living room and blinked his eyes as they adjusted to the dim. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so utterly exhausted. Right now, he could barely summon the strength to stand.

His head had been pounding for hours, ever since he cracked it against the low airplane ceiling on the runway in New York. He must have exacerbated his concussion from last week. And his stomach was still reeling from the motion sickness of the return flight – slightly less bumpy than the hellacious flight out, but not by much.

Of course, his car hadn’t been there when he finally landed at LAX. Long since towed away to some impound lot. But there was no way he had the energy to worry about it tonight. He’d reached for his phone to let his assistant know, only to be reminded that his bat phone was gone too. He hadn’t planned on coming back. Hadn’t looked before he leapt. Just took a flying jump off the edge of the precipice. And now here he was at the bottom – bruised and battered, but still breathing.

He ran his eyes around the room. It was pitch black but for the flickering light of the television screen. Had Kate forgotten to turn it off before she went to bed? He took a few steps forward before he realized she was lying there on the couch beneath a tousled blanket. She was slumped over with her head resting on the armrest, fast asleep.

There was an unfinished slice of pizza on a plate at her elbow. Her cellphone lay on the floor just beneath her hand. She must have been holding it, waiting for a call, when sleep had overtaken her. She must have been waiting up for him.

He moved across the room to the television and stood watching the screen for a moment before he knelt to turn it off. The Princess Bride. It was just about at the end. The part where the hero goes back for the girl, but he’s so broken down that he can’t even move. He's completely paralyzed from head to toe. The love of his life throws herself into his arms at long last, and he doesn’t even have the strength to lift his head.

“I know the feeling,” Aidan said to the man on the screen.

He switched the TV off, casting the room into total darkness. There was a rustle of movement behind him, and he turned back once again toward the sleeping figure on the couch.

“Aidan?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer. He crossed the room in two steps and slid onto the couch beside her. He pulled her into his arms and rolled over, so that he lay flat on his back with her body resting on top of him. It was too dark to see her face, but he felt her put her hands on each of his shoulders and arch her back to peer down at him.

“Is that you?” she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.

He smiled at the question. “Were you expecting someone else?”

She lowered her head and nuzzled her face into the side of his neck. “Maybe I was.”

“Who?”

“Mmmm,” she murmured, shrugging her shoulders and running her hands over his chest. “I don’t know. Maybe the bellmen?”

“Which one?”

“All of them,” she whispered.

He let his eyes drift closed as she slipped her hands beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. She tugged at it, attempting to pull it up over his head. He remained motionless, flat on his back, but she was kneeling now. Her knees straddled his thighs as she got his shirt up over his head. She traced her fingers downward and began working on his belt buckle.

“All of them,” he muttered, his eyes still closed. “Guess I should I get out of your way then.”

"You can stay," she answered.

He reached behind him to flick on a table lamp. Then he braced his weight on his elbows to watch her. She had his fly undone now, and she’d begun peeling off his jeans. Her eyes were veiled, looking down as she struggled with the stiff fabric. Her teeth bit gently against her lower lip. She had her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, and he reached out a hand to tuck a loose strand behind her ear. She was dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, long enough to hit her at mid-thigh. He saw now that it bore the logo from his band's most recent concert tour.

“Nice shirt,” he said, as she finally got the jeans off. She moved to toss them aside, but he took them from her hands. He fished for something in one of the front pockets before he dropped the jeans onto the floor.

She pulled her t-shirt taut in front of her and bent her head forward to look down at the logo. “My favorite band,” she said.

“They’re OK.”

She was still kneeling across his thighs, and he pushed himself upright into a seated position so that their faces were nearly even. She tilted her head to the side, the ghost of a smile on her lips, as she looked from the concert t-shirt back to his face.

“I heard a rumor they might be breaking up,” she said.

“That might be true.”

She shook her head. “No,” she replied. “Not true. I told Annette to kill the story.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m not sure that’s your call to make.”

“I can’t let you quit, Aidan.”

“And I can’t go out on this tour,” he said, “unless you’re coming with me.”

They both remained still for a moment, examining each other’s faces, trying to discern the full meaning behind the words. She broke the silence first.

“Is that what you’re asking me to do?” she said. “Drop everything and go follow you around on tour for two months?”

No, he thought. That wasn’t the real question, was it? He’d taken the engagement ring out of the pocket of his jeans a moment before, and he gripped it now in a closed fist at his side. He’d been carrying it around in his pocket all day long – all the way across the country and back again – fingering it every now and then to make sure it hadn’t gotten lost somewhere along the way.

Did she want him to ask her again now? Was she ready? If he said the words, would the answer this time be different? It didn’t matter, he realized, as he sat there studying her face. He had no choice. He had to try. He had to close his eyes and leap, one more time – and pray that she was ready to leap with him.

“I don’t care,” he said aloud. “We can go to New York. We can stay in LA. We can go on tour, or not go on tour. It doesn’t matter.” He lifted his hand and opened it, revealing the ring that rested now in the center of his palm. “We can go anywhere you want,” he said. “Just let me put this ring where it belongs.”

Her eyes had left his face when he opened his hand, but she met his gaze again now. Her face was solemn. Her eyes sparkled in the lamplight, and he saw the tears threatening to overflow.

Tears of joy or sadness? He still didn’t know the answer. He waited. He held his breath and watched as she pressed her lips together and nodded. Slowly, she lifted her left hand and extended it toward him, spreading her fingers wide.

Yes, then? Was that a yes?

“You have to say it,” he told her. “I need to hear you say it, Kate.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes what?”

She shifted her eyes to the side for a moment as a trace of uncertainty clouded her face. “Yes please?”

He shook his head. Not good enough. “I need you to spell it out for me, little girl.”

She looked down at the ring again, still resting on his upturned hand. She moved her own hand to cover his, so that the ring was trapped between their two palms. She was silent for a moment that felt like an eternity. Aidan sat frozen in place, eyes locked with hers. He watched as a single teardrop made its slow progress down her cheek and disappeared into the corner of her mouth. And at last he heard the words he hadn’t known he needed – the only words that could fill the hole she’d left in his life, the day she walked away.

“Aidan,” she said, her voice soft and low. “Aidan, you’re the one. I love you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” he answered. "I will."

And then he dipped his head to kiss her.

And then he slid the ring home.