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She blinks, once, then again, and shakes her head slightly—as if trying to clear it. “You don’t have to do that. I know you care, and I know God loves me despite what I’ve done. That’s enough.”

I frown, shaking my head. “It’s not enough for me. I love you, Sam. Don’t you want to be my wife?”

Her brow furrows. “I… thought. Adena said I needed to pick out a new last name. I assumed that’s why you came. So you could help.”

A surprised laugh escapes me. I can't believe she’s gotten it so backward. “The help I’d like to give you is for you to be my fiancée. After we get married, you can take my surname.”

She stares at me, brow still creased, as if her brain is catching up. Then she blinks rapidly and takes a half-step back, her eyes scanning my face like she’s waiting for the punchline.

Trying again, I drop to one knee and look up at her. “I’d like to sign a legally binding contract telling everyone you belong to me and I belong to you.”

Her mouth opens slightly, her breath shallow. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

She shifts her weight. “Aren’t you worried that I might mess something up?”

I stand slowly. “No. I’m worried that I might.”

Her gaze holds mine for a long beat, searching, wary. She’s still catching up, still stunned, but her expression softens—just a little—as she studies me.

“I’m still on probation, you know.”

“So am I,” I say.

She looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers slowly, like she’s picturing the ring in place. I wait, barely breathing.

Then she lifts her chin, mouth twitching with a smile she tries to hide. “Will you teach me how to swim?”

I don’t miss a beat. “On our honeymoon.”

Her eyes spark, lips parting with a yes that doesn’t need words. I exhale, hands unsteady as I slide the ring onto her finger.

When her eyes mist, I pull her close and kiss her—like a man who finally understands:

God’s providence wasn’t a detour.

It was the plan.

THE END… or is it?