It was the winter of 2015. I had decided to move to Los Angeles in search of something new. One morning, I was on my way to a job interview and—thanks to LA traffic—I was very late. I sat in the parking lot for several minutes, on the phone with my best friend, completely convinced I shouldn’t even bother going in. They were going to turn me away at the door. After some back-and-forth, I finally decided to just do it. I walked in, flustered, expecting rejection—but instead, I was greeted by Matt and his infectious personality. We spoke for maybe ten minutes, and I was hired. At the time, I didn’t think much of the moment. It was a job interview, nothing more. Certainly not the start of something that would change my life. Months passed. I threw myself into work, was promoted, and loved every minute of what I was building. Then came the weekend of my birthday—and with it, news that Matt was leaving the company. My work friends and I planned a birthday night out at Dave & Buster’s, and they invited Matt. (For the record—I did not invite him!) We all hung out that night… and then again the next night, and the next. He was preparing to move back to Michigan, but between his last day of work and his departure, we spent nearly every day together. I remember dropping him off at the airport and thinking, I would be really sad if I never saw this man again. After he moved, we stayed in touch. We’d talk on the phone as I drove to and from work every day. We didn’t really know how a brand-new relationship was supposed to survive long distance, but we didn’t care. We just kept going. Now, Matt and I remember this part a little differently (and let’s be honest—his memory isn’t exactly reliable), but here’s what actually happened: after weeks of nonstop phone calls, I flew out to Michigan to visit him. A few weeks later, he came back to LA. By then, he had already asked me to be his girlfriend, and while we had no idea how this would all work, he booked a one-way flight—because somewhere deep down, we already knew. Back in Michigan, his new job hadn’t turned out the way he’d hoped. And after a few weeks of adventures together and him meeting my family, it became pretty clear—he was going to move back to Los Angeles. So, he returned to Michigan one last time, packed his bags, and got ready to tell his friends and family, who were so eager to have him home for the first time in over ten years. Then something happened—something we definitely didn’t plan. I drove to CVS to get a pregnancy test. But I already knew. I didn’t need the test, just confirmation. And there they were—two very dark lines. I was pregnant. I told Matt the news while he was still in Michigan. He was thrilled—he told his dad and friends almost immediately, and they celebrated with steaks. By the time Matt returned, we went in for our first ultrasound. Thirteen weeks pregnant. That meant we had been expecting even before he left for Michigan—but neither of us had known. We committed—fully. To each other, to the baby, to our future. LA didn’t feel like the place to raise a family, so we made the decision to move to Reno. For me, it felt like coming home—and for Matt, it felt like the start of a new adventure. We had our daughter, Chloe. And now, over a decade later, she’ll be by our side as we get married. No, the past ten years didn’t go according to any traditional plan. But we made it through every twist, every challenge, every high and low—together. People ask why we waited ten years. You’ll have to ask Matt that one. But truthfully? It never really felt like waiting. We were always growing, always building something real. And now, here we are. Stronger, wiser, more in love than ever. After everything life threw at us, this moment—this commitment—feels exactly right.