Back in September 2014, Kate and Danny were both pretty busy—pretty busy swiping mostly left and sometimes right on this strange app called Tinder. Most matches ended shortly after if they even began at all, and at best a bad date became a novel story to entertain friends and family. But then Kate and Danny matched. Comedic banter ensued, and a week later they were meeting in real life for a drink at Sharlene's, a divey bar conveniently located between both of their Brooklyn neighborhoods. (Predictably, Kate arrived fifteen minutes early. Danny arrived thirty minutes late. Kate learned that patience is a virtue.) Conversation flowed and they stayed out inappropriately late for a week night, until they finally parted ways after three (slightly awkward) hugs at Grand Army Plaza. They talked every day after. (In fact, they still never really stop talking. There is always more to say.) A month later they became "official," not that there was ever a question of dating anyone else. October 1, 2014 will always be the day that changed everything. The beginning.

Kate and Danny planned a Montauk March getaway after a string of unseasonably warm winter weekends. Of course it snowed that Friday as they made the drive north, and Montauk was a ghost town. After the storm ended, Kate and Danny went to the beach for a restorative walk. It was pure white and glistening and completely untouched, no footprints besides their own, no sign of other human life. They walked for a long time, until Danny asked Kate to record a video of him. She obliged, expecting him to do something silly—to dance about and jump in the frigid waves, maybe, in the name of comedy. But then he dropped down on one knee, and she abruptly dropped the camera. He asked, she said yes, and here they are!