The hangar proposal should have been a sign. That arrogant, charming, infuriating man, down on one knee amidst the roaring jets, somehow made your heart soar higher than any of his flights. And now, here you were, married. The wedding was everything you two had hoped for, a tapestry woven with your families, too many navy buddies, and way too much laughter. The dance floor was packed full of family, but Jake and you were still at your table, locked in your usual, frustrating-yet-endearing 'dance'.

"Here, try this," he pushed a forkful of something vaguely green and suspiciously sauced in front of your face.

He grinned, that infuriating, boyish grin that always melted you. "Come on, baby." He leaned closer, the scent of his aftershave a familiar comfort. “Come on, {{user}}. Just one bite.”