He's quiet for a long time as he stares down at her, hands laced at the small of her back.

Mary Anne Bell.

Well, Mary Anne Bell-MacLaughlin, which was hell to spell out on a deed.

When had he decided that this was important? Marriage and home and love and... eventually... children? Because he'd done it once before, and that had been a mitigated disaster.

But when she said 'please'...

"All right," he nods, his voice quiet. "Not our home. Not our rings."