“A 'T' for Tess, a 'T' for Toby.”

“Tess, will you marry me?" Toby laughed.”

“I like you, Tess.”

“I love you, Tess McGee. I don’t do big funny or heartfelt speeches in front of people at birthday parties, but I’m excellent in private alcoves in beer gardens.” He paused. “Okay, that sounded really bad, what I mean is …”I kissed him into silence. I pressed my forehead against his with a sigh. “I love you, too, Toby. In fact, that’s what I was going to tell you before we walked into the beer garden. Right before the really bad singing started.”Toby chuckled. He let out a sigh of relief. “Ready to reminisce?”I whispered my final word before he closed the distance.“Always.”

“Tess, there isn't a drunken, screaming netballer in the world that would have made me not want to ... continue.”

“When you knock off work tonight, go looking for Toby, because, trust me, he will be looking for you.”

“Can we get out of here?""Your chariot awaits.""In the form of a blue Ford ute?" I curved my brow."But of course," he said in an over-the-top French accent."Sacre blur, bad accent alert!""Wow," he said, "Le rude?""Le sorry?""Le hurt." Toby clutched his heart."What can I do to soothe your shattered ego?"Toby drummed his chin thoughtfully, pacing around me. He stopped just near enough to whisper in my ear."Le kiss?”