Our story begins in the fall of 2021 at Christendom College. Mary was a freshman, I was a senior, and despite our very different stages of life, we kept finding our way into long conversations at house parties my roommates and I hosted (sometimes with a reason, often without one). Whether we were talking about school, life, or absolutely nothing important, we always seemed to end up on the same team—literally and figuratively. We both liked each other, and we were both convinced the feeling wasn’t mutual. A classic mistake.

Life, as it tends to do, moved on. I graduated, Mary kept conquering college, and time passed. Then came the summer of 2024—and Mary’s sister Helen’s wedding. I saw Mary across the dance floor and instantly knew I had to dance with her. Mary also saw me and instantly knew she had to avoid me. This strategy worked beautifully… until her brother Michael spun her directly into my arms while shouting, “Gossin! Dance with my sister!”

That dance felt like stepping back in time. We laughed, swapped stories, and reminisced about 2021. Feeling bold (and thinking I was smooth), I suggested we keep in touch. Mary, unimpressed by my subtlety, replied, “Sorry, I don’t date short guys.” The song ended. We walked away. I was confused. She was probably amused.

That summer, fate kept intervening—this time in the form of pickleball. We talked, laughed, teamed up, and coincidentally showed up to games when the other would be there. Eventually, I stopped overthinking and finally asked Mary on a proper date. She said yes—and I’ve been trying to make up for lost time ever since. Somehow, through all the missed moments and second chances, I ended up exactly where I was meant to be—with Mary.

Our story doesn’t start with a dramatic meet-cute or a lightning-bolt moment. It starts quietly—back when I was a freshman and Erik was a senior, and he happened to be friends with my older sister. That meant crossing paths at house parties, lingering conversations, and weekly summer “cooking club” nights with their friend group after graduation. We were in each other’s orbit without quite realizing it.

And then, life did what it does best—we drifted. Time passed. We lost touch.

Fast forward to 2023, when we unexpectedly ran into each other at a Dierks Bentley concert—right before I left to study abroad in Rome. The timing felt almost cinematic. Erik nearly visited Rome that fall with my roommate’s (now husband!) then-boyfriend, but decided it was too last-minute. Another almost.

The real turning point came in June of 2024, at my sister’s wedding. Erik asked me to dance. We danced. He asked for my number—and I said, "Sorry, I don't date short guys." (To this day, I insist I thought he was joking.) It wasn’t until the next day, on the drive home, that it hit me: he wasn’t joking at all. This drive home brought back buried feelings for Erik that I had all of freshman year. By the time I realized my true feelings again, I was sure I’d missed my chance.

But God had other plans.

My oldest sister—who just so happened to be best friends with Erik’s oldest sister back in college—sent me his number. And just like that, the story picked up again. We started talking more, spending the summer playing pickleball with a group of local alumni and students, and becoming regulars at half-priced pints at Apple House on Wednesdays. Somewhere between rallies and cider, something real began to grow.

There were small moments that meant everything—like inviting Erik to brunch at my girlfriends’ house, secretly hoping he’d show up… and he did. Or getting invited to a rosary-and-beer night at the best man’s house, knowing Erik would be there. Slowly, the group got smaller, the conversations got deeper, and it felt like something was nudging us closer together.

The few days leading up to Erik asking me out, I'd made a decision to no longer hangout with him and John Healey. I thought that if I held back a little longer, then he would come to his senses. The three of us had previously planned a movie night at Healey's house, to which I backed out of.

Lo and behold, on a fateful Monday evening after work, I received a call from "Erik Gossin". I answered, and he finally got the courage to ask me out.

It wasn’t two weeks later that we finally went on our first date, and somehow it was the best first date either of us had ever been on. From there, everything felt easy. Right. Certain. We dated for a little over a year, building a love rooted in faith, friendship, laughter, and so many shared Apple House nights.

Then one rainy day at an apple orchard, Erik got down on one knee and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him.

The day he asked me out.

The day he asked me to be his girlfriend.

The day he asked me to marry him.

Each one was the easiest “yes” of my life.

And by far, the easiest yes will be the one we say together on our wedding day—when we finally say, “I do.”