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It's remarkably easy, to date James.
He brings a certain amount of necessary spontaneity to her life - not (yet) upending it entirely, but definitely brightening it. Adding more spice, persuading her to be braver and bolder and sillier and less... less. She keeps working, but cuts the number of days she works to something a bit more reasonable. Six days a week of ten hours of work is... kind of a lot. A lot, a lot. There wasn't enough for her, let alone anyone else, before. Now she wants time enough for herself, and for someone else in particular. She spends her newfound free time gardening, or reading, or visiting interesting places that are suddenly so easily within reach, or socializing, or reconnecting with friends she hadn't quite realized she'd drifted away from, or organizing her poor hopeless boyfriend's dentistry paperwork and records to something a bit less of a nightmare, really James, how can you think in that mess?
Yvette's not quite sure where or when she falls in love. There is no big, sweeping moment where she looks at him and goes, 'Ah, yes, this is the person I'd like to spend my forever with.' There's just James showing up in the middle of her shift with an offering of coffee for her (and her fellow nurses, because he is a gentleman). There's just a section of her home's neglected siding that was starting to rot that is mysteriously fixed while she's at work, a love note playfully tucked between the boards for her for when she inevitably notices and investigates. There are the set of research papers on modern chemistry that find their way to her father, that cause him to start muttering expletives under his breath about talentless hacks not properly citing sources and being wrong, look, he'll prove it, sorry about the mess in the living room, he needs the space for the equations and this experiment because he does not think any of this was done properly. There are the letters from her brother, teasingly amused at how, yes, Yvette is being very careful and meticulous and isn't even a little bit swept up by the romance of it all, mhm. There are the afternoons James pops by as a surprise, with flowers and a kiss just because he can. There are the evenings he cooks dinner and listens to her ramble about horrendously rude patients and how the entire medical system just needs to be overhauled. There are casual touches of affection and his familiar comforting chill at her side, and relaxing because he's there. There are the nights that he does nothing but nestle next to her in her bed and hold her while she sleeps, because while yes she would like to wait for marriage for certain things, he makes her feel safe, and no one's going to worry about him sleeping at her house if they aren't aware that he does it.
After five weeks, she informs him that she loves him. After twelve more, she stops nervously dancing around the topic and drags him (willingly, playfully) off to go give him her taste in rings.
She favors delicate artistry more than impressively large or numerous diamonds, and is very practically minded. Nothing that will easily snag, certainly, nor anything likely to lose its gemstones. Large rings are showier and more cumbersome than they need to be, and the two of them have nothing to prove to anyone in particular. The current modern style of rings are nice on the whole, but floral patterns are better than geometric ones, and she favors organic curves over stocky straight lines.
But most of all, she'd just like it to be from him. That'll be enough. Along with forever.
