Naz motions for the waiter when the man steps outside and tells him to bring us whatever's chocolate on the dessert menu. A few minutes later some kind of chocolaty something is placed on the table in front of me. I have no idea what it is, but it's creamy and rich, one of the greatest things I've ever tasted. I'm shoveling it into my mouth when Naz speaks quietly. "I'm in love with you, Karissa."

I freeze with the spoon halfway to my mouth and peer across the table at him. "I love you, too."

"No, I don't just love you," he says. "I'm in love with you."

His voice is so earnest it paints my flesh with goose bumps. "Is there a difference?"

"There is," he says. "When you love somebody, you want what's best for them… but when you're in love with them, you want them for yourself. And they're not always the same thing. Just because I want you, doesn't mean I'm the best thing for you… because I'm not. I know I'm not. It isn't easy to reconcile. Because I know I should let you go, should let you walk away from me right now, but I can't do it. I can't. I'm selfish, and I'm in love with you, and I want nothing more than to keep you for myself."

"I don't want to walk away from you. I'm never going to."

"Don't say that unless you mean it."

"I swear it," I say. "I meant it when I asked you to stay that night, and I mean it now. I'm in love with you, too."

"Do you ever think about the future?" he asks.

"All the time."

"What do you see?"

"I'm not sure," I admit, swirling my spoon around in the chocolate whatever-it-is. "I'm not even sure what waits for me back in New York. If I don't have my scholarship, I don't even have school anymore."

"Don't worry about that."

"How can I not?" I ask. "I'm not sure about anything anymore… anything except for you, anyway. You're the only thing in my life that I'm sure about. I know I want you… need you. I know I love you. Nothing else really makes any sense anymore."

"Don't say that unless—"

"Unless I mean it," I mumble, cutting him off. "Believe me, I mean it."

"Do you want to know what future I see? What I see for you?"

I meet his eyes. "What?"

"I see you having everything you've ever wanted," he says. "Everything you've ever dreamed of. Clothes, shoes, houses, cars… boats."

I laugh. "Boats?"

He shrugs. "You might want a boat, you know, take one down the canal in Venice when you visit Italy someday."

"Okay, I'll give you that one," I say. "I don't really need all of that, though."

"But you can still have it," he says. "Anything you want out of life. You can finish school and build a life however you want it to be. A family, children… whatever you want. I see it for you."

I smile. "It sounds wonderful."

"It can be," he says quietly. "God willing, it will be."

"Does this life include you?"

"Do you want it to?"

"Of course. I'd give all that other stuff up if it meant I could just keep you."

He stares at me in silence for a moment, not responding to what I've said, before slowly reaching into his coat. He pulls out a small velvet box, and every muscle inside of me seizes up at the sight of it. My heart stalls a beat before kick starting again, like its been shocked into action, frantically pounding against my rib cage.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

Oh shit.

He wordlessly flips the box open, the last tiny bit of sunlight hitting the oval-shaped diamond dead center of the ring. I gape at it as it sparkles in the light. I don't know anything about jewelry, couldn't guess the carat to save my life, but I know enough to tell it's extravagant.

He says nothing.

I say nothing.

He glances down at the box in his hand, pulling the ring from it after a moment, holding it up in front of him.

There's no way he's doing what I think he's doing.

There's just no way.

His eyes lift to meet mine again, and I see the truth there, lurking in the darkness. "You really mean it?"

I slowly nod. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

This has to be a dream. It's a dream. I'm asleep, or in a coma. Maybe he choked me last night until I fell unconscious, or maybe I'm dead, or maybe he's just fucking with me. Maybe I'm mistaken.

Maybe someone's playing a cruel joke.

Something, anything… but there's just no way this is real. There's no way this means what I think it means, that he means what I think he means. There's no way he's about to say—

"Marry me."

Those two words suck the oxygen from the courtyard. My chest burns, my eyes blurring. I inhale sharply. I can't fucking breathe.

Blinking rapidly, my gaze bounces between him and the ring. My brain is screaming in protest, shouting out everything that is wrong about this entire thing. The list is a mile long. I've known him only months. There's so much about him that's a mystery to me. I'm young, and maybe I'm naïve, and he's dark, and maybe he's a bit dangerous. I only vaguely know his history, and my mother doesn't even know he exists.

So many things wrong, so why do those words feel so right?