(Disclaimer: Not mine - ya know the drill.)

A box. She drops a box in front of me and heads back into her apartment. She wants me to help her with moving duty. She doesn't know there's another, much smaller box in my pocket. I can feel it there – it's been there all day.

She comes to the door again and rolls her eyes at me. "Going to stand there all day? I'm not moving myself."

"Liv, have I ever told you I hate moving?"

She places a few more things in a box by the door. "Only a million times, John."

I watch as she pulls dishes out of a cabinet in the kitchen, wrapping them in newspapers and placing them in yet another box. "I don't even know why you want to move in the first place."

"You're not helping," she retorts, "so why does it matter why I want to move?"

"Because – you're giving this place up to move in with me. I'm still trying to figure out how you found a place like this, here."

"It was my mother's place," she informs me. "I didn't really have the time to list it or sell it – and it was better than the crappy studio I had." She reaches for the packing tape on the counter and seals the box, quickly.

"A studio?"

"Yeah. Little walk-up. Starting salary doesn't give you much choice in living arrangements," she answers, "but I don't know if you'd even remember that."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," I say to her back, as she heads into the living room. "But why stay there any longer than you had to?"

"Don't know. I probably thought I didn't have the time to find a place and move," Olivia says, with a shrug. She stops and looks out the windows in her living room. "I'm gonna miss the view in this place."

I see what she means. From her living room window, she's got a decent view of the city skyline. It's incredible, compared to the view at my place. "Why give it up, then?" I question, my hand around the box in my pocket.

She turns and looks at me. "John, we agreed"- She stops mid-sentence as I push a box out of the way and pull the box out of my pocket, kneeling.

Tears fill her eyes. I know it sounds like something out of a bad movie, but that's what's happening. She's crying. I still don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

She wipes her eyes and lets me slide the ring on her finger. "So you want to stay here?"

"It's better than my place – and we won't have half as many damn boxes to pack, when I move."