“I’m not marrying you,” he repeated. I swore to him that I was not being romantic about it: “There’ll be no rings, no ceremony, no celebration of any kind. We won’t tell anyone but the accountant. Think of it as a financial contract, nothing more.” “No.” “Goddamn it,” I said. “You are going to marry me whether you like it or not.” “No, I’m not.” “Oh, yes you are.”
