As Stuart Bloom In TBBT

November 2010. Thanksgiving. San Diego.

Katie's parents live in Clairemont. Middle-class neighborhood. Well-kept houses.

Her dad opens the door. Dan Stevens. Contractor. Firm handshake.

"You must be Stuart."

"That's me."

"Come in. Everyone's dying to meet you."

The house smells like turkey and stuffing. Traditional Thanksgiving.

Katie's mom—Linda—hugs me immediately. "We've heard so much."

"Good things, I hope."

"Mostly." She winks.

Katie's siblings descend. Sarah. Amanda. Josh.

Sarah's the oldest. 31. Marketing executive.

Amanda's 26. Teacher.

Josh is 24. Still figuring it out.

"So you own comic shops," Josh says immediately.

"Three."

"That's badass. Can I get a discount?"

"Josh," Linda warns.

"What? I'm asking for family privileges."

"We're not family yet," Katie says quickly.

Awkward silence.

"But maybe someday," I add.

Linda beams.

Afternoon. Football on TV. Dan and I watching.

"Katie says you're doing well. Business-wise."

"I'm fortunate."

"Three shops in two years. That's not fortune. That's skill."

"Some of both."

"What's your expansion plan?"

"Maybe fourth shop next year. Santa Monica or Riverside. Haven't decided."

"Smart. Controlled growth. Not overextending."

He's drinking beer. Watching the game. But his attention's on me.

"You serious about my daughter?"

"Very."

"She's dated actors before. Industry people. Never brought any of them home for Thanksgiving."

"I know."

"So what makes you different?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask her."

"I'm asking you."

I think about it. The game plays. Cowboys versus Raiders.

"I think—I don't need her for anything. My career's separate. My success is independent. I'm dating her because I like her. Not because of what she can do for me."

Dan nods. "That's a good answer."

"It's the honest answer."

"Even better."

Dinner. Extended family. Twenty people crammed around two tables.

Grandparents. Aunts. Uncles. Cousins.

Katie's nervous. Grip tight on my hand under the table.

"Everyone, this is Stuart."

Chorus of hellos.

Linda insists on going around. Everyone sharing gratitude.

When it's my turn: "I'm grateful for Katie. For her family welcoming me. For—this. Being here."

Katie squeezes my hand.

Her grandmother—Rosa—asks: "When's the wedding?"

"Grandma!" Katie's mortified.

"What? You're twenty-nine. He's successful. He's handsome. What are you waiting for?"

"We've been dating seven months."

"Your grandfather proposed after three."

"Different generation."

"Love is love."

I'm trying not to laugh. Katie's face is red.

"We're taking it one day at a time," I say diplomatically.

Rosa sniffs. "Young people. Always waiting."

Driving back to LA. Late. Katie's exhausted.

"I'm sorry about my grandmother."

"Don't be. She's great."

"She's pushy."

"She cares."

"Still."

"Katie. It's fine. Your family's wonderful."

"They loved you."

"I loved them."

She's quiet. Looking out the window.

"My sister asked if you're the one."

"What'd you say?"

"I said I think so."

"You think so?"

"I think so. Do you?"

"I think so too."

She smiles. "We're quite the decisive pair."

"We are."

Ten miles of silence. Just highway noise.

"Move in with me," she says.

"I asked you that already."

"I'm saying yes. New Year. January. Let's do it."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes. Okay. Let's do it."

She's grinning. "We're moving in together."

"We are."

"This is happening."

"It is."

She leans over. Kisses my cheek. Highway driving be damned.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And I mean it.

Completely.

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