02/14/2014

"If I hadn't been shot, would we be married by now?" Her question caught him off guard. Looking up, he met her olive eyes, clearer than before, but darker after the shooting that had claimed her memories.

"Probably." His answer was short and honest. Not even a breath taken before answering. Nodding, she looked back down at her hands, trying to imagine a diamond ring on her finger. Not a big, flashy ring. Something small, but elegant. Something she could wear to work, if she ever worked again.

"I would have taken you to Hamptons," he said, answering the question he knew she was too afraid to ask. "Probably go in the fall, when it's cool and not too crowded yet. The leaves would be turning and the nights perfect for a fire." He had proposed to Meredith in Paris. Gina in Rome. Both engagements grander than the one before. Never had he proposed to anyone in the Hamptons. That was his place, their place now. Too much like a second home to start an engagement that would lead to a marriage and end in divorce. "It'd be dark and I'd probably cook your favorite chicken parmesan. A bottle of Chateauneuf. Mousse for dessert. I'd want it to be about us…nothing over the top." She smiled and ducked her head, trying to hide the blush that graced her olive skin. That's how she had dreamed it in her head; ever since she had wrapped her head around the man that sat next to her being in love with her. Something grand, but not showy. Less his style and more about her's.

She wanted to say she would've said yes. But the truth was that she wasn't sure what she would've said. Didn't remember the turmoil she'd felt just before the bullet hit her head. Forgot about the argument they had had earlier that morning. The love they'd made the night before wiped from her memory forever. So instead, she changed the subject. "I always wanted a dress that isn't white," she said, "Something demure and not too big. A small wedding…my dad, family and friends. Lavendar roses and purple bridesmaid dresses. Cupcakes instead of a really big cake." He smiled and closed his eyes for a moment.

He could see their wedding. See her smile, taste their kiss. The smell of her hair as he buried her nose in it during their first dance. "What kind of wedding would you want?" It was his turn to meet her eyes, watching him with innocent curiousity.

"One where I'm married to you." Reaching across, he took her hand in his and squeezed tight. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she squeezed back, then pulled away to tug on her jacket. It was Sunday and he had promised to take her to the park.