“I’m a builder, not an artist.”
“Clearly,” I replied.
He came back the next day.
And the next.
And the day after that.
On his fourth visit, he finally asked me to dinner.
Our first date was at a little pizza restaurant where the tables were permanently sticky.
Our second date was a drive north to Loon Lake.
Mark wanted to show me the place he’d visited with his grandfather as a boy.
We sat on a dock watching the sunset.
The water reflected orange, purple, and gold beneath the dark pine trees.
Suddenly, Mark looked at me.
“I’m going to marry you someday.”
I laughed.
“Mark, you’ve known me eight days.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“I’m going to marry you anyway.”
Fourteen months later, he did.
We married in my parents’ backyard.
Then drove straight to Loon Lake for our honeymoon.
Four nights at the Lakeview Inn.
