Separate names with a comma.
He shrugged. "I was just wondering if you had an opinion. Next week it is, then."
She nodded, using her hands to press lightly on one of his distractedly. "Okay. I don't. I promise."
"Is there any specific date you would want to do it? If not, I'm sure we could do it next week, or something," he said, his hands resting on her back.
She shook her head. "No. You're not allowed to die, ever. Okay?"
"That word is not allowed. Remember?" He raised an eyebrow. "I thought of you every day as well."
"No, you're not allowed to die. That's on the list of rules."
"You did?" he asked, his eyes curious.
She shook her head. "Nuh uh."
"When you meet my parents, can I tell them we've been together for seven months instead of two?"
"I don't know." She shrugged. "It could be."
"I'm really glad we're getting married," he said. "I get more excited every day."
She considered it for a moment. "Maybe another time, like later. Not now, though."
He tilted his head. "I don't like them that much, either."
He pursed her lips. "Nothing. I don't know. It's hard to explain."
"Is it the fluorescent lights or the sterile smell?" He asked teasingly.
"I was busy doing things," she explained. "Painting and stuff."
He brushed back a lock of her hair, his hand on the side of her face. "They said you could go back home soon," he told her.
She smiled and pulled away, a bit reluctantly. "That's good. I feel a lot more awake now."
He took her hands gently, tilting his head. "Yes, I suppose you're right. You always are."
She kissed his jaw, then nodded. "I did. What about you?"
