“You’ve never seen Casablanca?” he asked, barely able to believe it. “Can I cook you dinner and show off a little?” “Yes.” She said. “Anything you don’t eat?” “No,” she said, "It’s a date.” He prepared a flank steak using a marinade passed down from his father. Everyone who ever ate this steak loved it. Served with roasted asparagus and baked sweet potatoes with butter and cinnamon, it was simple and good. "Hope you like steak!" he beamed as he began to serve the food. "I should have told you I don't really like steak, especially not rare steak," she confessed. This steak admittedly was a little bit more on the rare side, which he realized as he cut into it. "Sorry," he said. "There may have been a little 'moo' left in it." Defeated, he ate his food and ever the good sport, she choked down one bite of extremely rare steak and ate the sweet potato. It was not going well. Dinner was a failure, but surely a classic love story set during World War II about an American expatriate who must choose between his love for a woman or helping her Resistance leader husband escape the city of Casablanca would improve the night. Plus, with so many recognizable lines who wouldn't love this movie? She didn’t. After he quoted one too many lines she blurted, “Are you going to point them all out to me?” “Not anymore.” he said from the opposite side of the sofa. The night ended with what had now become all too familiar to Ryan, the realization of another bad date. But at least he had leftover steak. Rocio, feeling bad about the whole night made a mini key lime pie and left it for him in the fridge at church. Did I mention key lime pie is Ryan's favorite?

“Rocio has been in an accident. Can you come pick us up,” the text said. Not waiting to get the address, he grabbed his keys and jumped in the Jeep. By the time he got the address he was half way there. This was the day he realized he couldn’t be without her. “There are rules,” she said. “I won’t say ‘yes’ until we’ve been dating at least a year.” It had been six months. Sunday afternoon he asked her sister Alma to help him find a ring. He spent lunch breaks learning about cut, color, clarity, carat, and shape. Thanks to Alma and the secret Pinterest board, the perfect ring was chosen. Much of their courtship was recorded in short little love letters tapped out on the phone. As he looked back through these texts he saw their relationship progress. The first email, mornings at the gym, ninja dating, the day after their first kiss, and the moment he fell in love with her. The feelings returned. So he took a screenshot of the most meaningful texts and pictures and compiled them in a book that he sent off to have printed and bound. The ring arrived first, and the tracking for the book told him it would arrive Friday. He asked if she would like to hike at Walnut Creek Sunday morning. This was a favorite activity of their’s, so she agreed. The book didn’t arrive. It rained. There was no hike and no proposal. He had spoken with her father and mother. Her brother and sister knew it was happening. Everybody had to keep the secret a while longer. Finally the book arrived. The hike was scheduled, this time in St. Edward's park. They stopped for snacks so he would have an excuse to carry a backpack with the book and the ring. She wondered why he had the backpack, but was distracted by Hot Fries. They hiked. He was nervous. They hiked some more. In a little clearing next to a creek he stopped, sat on a felled tree and gave her the book. They laughed as they remembered how they felt. He sent one more text. It read, “Will you marry me?”