Well. They're not rich, and they're not famous, and they're not in New York, or L.A., or even Portland. She's not a singer, and she's not a lawyer, and she's not a professor. And Britt is not touring with Beyonce, or anyone else. So this is strictly DIY.

They're in Columbus, Ohio.

She is working, with her one year of college education, on Ohio marriage equality. And that's been a tortuous slog, talking, talking, talking to thousands of people, many of them bigots, or just clueless, about fundamental fairness to all families; hundreds, no, thousands of mailings, from under-lit offices in underpaid - when paid - jobs.

Brittany is more the breadwinner, a highly sought-after local dance teacher, her kids' classes fill first every quarter, and occasionally she performs when her friends get together to make art.

Sometimes they go to karaoke.

She'd made a decision, they'd made a decision, ten years ago, because being apart, even for a while… Well, there just wasn't enough skype in the world. Not even with unlimited text, talk & data. Not even with daily hand-written cards and letters. Until the last one came, just this: Baby, Come Home.

So she did. With a ring.

And this time, they'd hammered out a plan together. One that worked. So now they'd made another decision, more intentional this time, but no less inevitable. But this time, they'd needed help. Not the kind her dad could provide.

He's perfect, Brittany'd said, he's married, he's proven, he can afford the travel, he's cute.

-Cute?-

He's blo-onde. Like me-ee. Plus I'll rub your fee-eet.

-Sold.-

He's tanner, and blonder, and thinner, and possibly more ripped than he'd been in school.

"I've thought about it a lot. We've talked it over, and we're agreed: I would be honored to be your baby-daddy."

She blinks.

Wait. What if she can't get pregnant, what if she can't stand being pregnant, and what about afterward? What if it isn't lovable? What if she's not lovable? What if she's just not up to the job?

Brittany's fingers shuffle in between her own. Their eyes meet.

-Anything is possible.-

And his trouty mouth recedes and she can't hear what he's saying and everything slows way down, and she feels rather than hears the wet smack of Brittany's lips on her cheek, and her fingers are being crushed, and shaken, and brought to Brittany's lips as she kisses each one (yes) and she's saying something over and over (yes he said yes) that she can't hear yet (yes) and their eyes meet and her eyes are dancing and they're drawing her in (yes) and she starts to be able to hear it (yes he said yes), just a whisper at first (yes) then an echo, then she hears it (yes yes yes) and she wipes the tears from Brittany's face (oh Honey yes) and she kisses the tears off Brittany's face and Brittany (oh god) Brittany takes the tears off her face with her thumbs and (yes Baby yes) picks her up and carries her like a baby (yes he said yes) and dumps her in Sam's lap and she's holding them both and they're laughing, and crying, and laughing, and laughing…

"Well, did you want to start… now?" he says.