Page 68 of New Year's Faye

"No." I held up a hand. "You got to say everything with your songs. Now it's my turn."

I opened my laptop, hands shaking slightly as I pulled up my presentation. Fifty-two slides of my heart laid bare in the only way I knew how.

Sam's eyes widened as he saw the title slide:

A Comprehensive Analysis of Why Samuel Dogg and Faye Moyo Should Consider a Permanent Merger of Hearts: A Five to Fifty Year Projection

A laugh burst from his chest—surprised and tender and a little bit wet. "Of course."

"What?"

"Of course you'd answer my heart's song with spreadsheets and slides." His smile was soft, wondering. "Of course you'd plan your way into loving me."

"I..." My carefully prepared script fled. "Is that okay?"

He crossed to me in two strides, one hand cupping my face while the other steadied my laptop. "Faye Moyo, it's the most perfect thing I've ever seen."

"You haven't even seen the real estate analysis yet."

"There's a real estate analysis?"

"With projected market valuations for potential future homes." I bit my lip. "And a separate section on dog parks. And maybe a timeline for..." I gestured vaguely. "You know. Future occupants."

"Future..." His eyes widened. "Faye, did you make a PowerPoint about our future fur-babies?"

"I made a PowerPoint about everything." I set the laptop down, suddenly needing my hands free. "Because that's what I do. I plan. I organize. I control. But you..." I touched his chest, feeling his heart race under my palm. "You make me want to color outside the lines a little."

"Only a little?" His hand was warm on my cheek.

"Baby steps." I managed a shaky smile. "I did include a projected timeline for spontaneous date nights. Color-coded by activity level and required preparation time."

He laughed again, that full, rich sound I'd unknowingly been collecting for years. "I love you."

"I know. I have an entire section analyzing the linguistic patterns in your lyrics that?—"

His kiss cut me off.

And for once in my life, I didn't mind losing control of the narrative.

When we finally parted, his forehead resting against mine, I whispered, "I love you too. In case that wasn't clear from the fifty-two slides of statistical evidence."

"Fifty-two? I thought you said fifty?"

"I may have added a few while waiting in the wings." I wound my arms around his neck. "The last two are about tonight's song and its impact on our relationship metrics."

"You're incredible." He kissed me again, softer this time. "Absolutely incredible."

"So... you want to see the rest of the presentation?"

His smile lit up his whole face. "Baby, I want to see every color-coded chart you've ever made."

I reached for my laptop, but he caught my hand.

"But first..." He pulled me close again. "I think I need to kiss you some more. You know, for the data set."

"That's not very professional," I murmured against his lips.

"Good thing I'm not trying to be professional anymore." His eyes were bright with joy and mischief. "I'm just a brown-eyed boy in love with a brown-eyed girl who plans happiness in perfect little rows."

---