The next evening—
Mike and Connie were relaxing on the couch at Connie's apartment, watching "CSI".
Connie was resting her head on his shoulder, and he had his arm around her.
"I think it was the brother," Mike said.
"I don't like him for this. I think it was the coworker," said Connie.
The two of them always loved to guess who the murderer was.
"I think you're wrong," Mike said, smirking.
"I think you're full of crap," Connie said, smirking, too.
At commercial break, Mike picked up the remote and muted the TV.
"So Jack and I went out for drinks yesterday evening," he said.
"Did you ask him?"
"Yeah, I did."
Connie sat up so she could look at him.
"What did he say?" she asked.
"He said he will."
"I knew it," she said.
"I still can't even believe we're getting married," Mike said.
At that, Connie leaned in and kissed him, and he kissed her back.
After they broke apart—
"I can," she said.
"I love you," Mike said.
"I love you, too," Connie replied.