Length: 356 words
“Does this mean we’ve settled down?”
Geoffrey looked up from where he was furiously scribbling notes at the tiny desk in the corner, the small lamp casting a pool of light that almost reached to the center of their new, tiny, one-bedroom loft. Ellen was surveying the clutter around them, the secondhand furniture and the unopened boxes, hands resting lightly on hips, her brow furrowed. Her hair was swept back by a scarf. She wasn’t dressed impeccably, a departure for her.
Geoffrey closed his eyes. In his mind’s eye he could see her standing before him, his Juliet, his Ophelia. When he opened his eyes, she was simply his. A smile curved at the corners of his mouth. If life was a journey and this was the end of the road, the “settling down”, he’d take it. He stood up from his chair and closed the distance between them. He took her hands in his. “Are you having second thoughts?” he teased.
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I’m simply looking for confirmation.” She removed her hands from his and laced her fingers behind his neck, reaching up to kiss him. They lingered, and when Geoffrey finally pulled away he was quite certain that his eyes betrayed his thought, I love you.
“Let’s make a baby,” he said instead, and the way her eyes widened made him laugh out loud.
“Geoffrey,” she said reproachfully, “I am too old to even entertain the idea of…”
“I mean the theater company,” he said, pulling her down to sit next to him on the small sofa.
“Ah,” she pondered this for a moment, then smiled wistfully. “All those young, wide-eyed thespians.” She leaned back and rested a hand on his arm. “Alright Geoffrey, I’m in. But please, don’t cast me as the Nurse.” She had an almost pleading tone in her voice, but he knew from the gleam in her eye that she was teasing again.
“Of course not,” he smiled saucily at her. “We can’t have you stealing the show from Juliet.”
She rolled her eyes at him, but he thought he could detect a faint blush starting.
Prompt: "Does this mean we've settled down?"