Our Story, Part Four--an Accident, a Test, and a Miracle

Brandon told me that he'd be stopping by with his brother. When the doorbell rang, I was sitting "reading" (read: reading the same sentence over and over again with zero comprehension or focus) The Rent Collector. I opened the door to see Elder Keyes Brandon wearing normal clothes and no name tag, with no companion or brother anywhere in sight.
Alone. 
And then we hugged. Toto, I've a feeling we're not in Kansas the MTC anymore.
We caught up in my living room for a couple of hours, talking about everything that had happened for the past couple of years. And then we ended up listening to music on YouTube (every legit hangout ends in YouTube one way or another, right?).
And then suddenly his phone was ringing with a call from his brother wondering where in the world he was. Apparently it was almost 2 am 9pm! Oops.
(Warning: certain details have been changed to protect the aforementioned parties against minor Honor Code infractions that possibly might maybe may have occurred during this event. Judging is permitted).
I walked him outside (super generous of me, since January 2013 will go down in history as the Ice Age of my lifetime), and he gave me a hug. I remember having a contingency plan in the unlikely event that he attempted to kiss me. Not because I was vain. My worry was that this recently-returned, affection-deprived missionary that I hardly knew could easily be looking for an end to his "dry spell." And as tempting as it was to humor him, I did, in fact, have a smidgen of pride left, and I did not want to be the convenience/desperation kiss he went home and crossed off a list in his RM Daily Planner.

However, circumstance had something else in mind. As I pulled away from the hug to look at him and say bye, he tried to kiss me on the cheek, which left us accidentally kissing--intended by neither, each blaming the other.
My contingency plan thus foiled, half of me thought, "Dangit." Cantine filled.
While the other half, blissfully ignorant that it was an accidental kiss on his part, thought, "Victory!!!!"
And when he left, I did what was expected of me, and of any other girl, for that matter: I suppressed a squeal and immediately called a sister to fill her in. Mid-call, before I was even to the good part, a call comes in on the other line--it's Brandon. So, naturally, I ditch my sister mid-story and pick up his call.
Brandon: "Hey...um...my brother and I are locked out of our new apartment. Is there...um...any way we could...um...crash there on your couches tonight?"
To me, it smelled like a test. A test that I would fail either way, because naturally, the only possible two scenarios were:

Scenario One: The Rule-Breaker
Me: "Of course you can sleep here on the couches!"
Brandon: "Wow. I can't believe you'd break the Honor Code and let boys sleep in your apartment. That really tells me all I need to know about you, Martha." [click]

Scenario Two: The Heartless Jerk
Me: "Um, I don't think that's a good idea. It's against the Honor Code, after all."
Brandon: "Wow, you self-righteous Grinch. We'll just sleep outside in the -2 degree weather. Hope you enjoy living your letter-of-the-law life, Pharisee!" [click]

Which one would you choose? I chose Scenario One, because I'm a terrible person. They slept on the couches. So, in case you need a recap, somehow, the last time I saw Brandon (January 2011), we were barely allowed to shake hands, but the next time (January 2013), we accidentally kissed and he and his brother accidentally slept at my house.
Things progress quickly here in Provo, guys.

But I feel like maybe life got me back for choosing Scenario One. Brandon and I had only been spending about two weeks together, and we were still in that fragile, pre-DTR state where all my efforts were focused on just not messing anything up while simultaneously acting like there was nothing going on between us to mess up. I talked to my parents and casually let them know we'd be stopping by the house in Salt Lake, so we'd see them if they happened to be home. Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb.

Brandon and I pull up. Precisely at that moment, my brother and his wife pull up.
Me, innocently: "Oh hey! What're you guys doin' here?"
Brother Brian, not even a little bit innocently: "We heard you were bringing a boy home!" (What else did I expect from the big brother who teased me relentlessly since I was a wee lass?)
Thanks, Bri. Pretending that wasn't embarrassing, I open the front door, to see my dear mother coming down the staircase toward the door.
Mom: "Brandon!! Or should I say 'Elder Keyes' as we've known you for so long."
Really, Mom??? I officially sound like a creepo who's been talking incessantly about Brandon to my family for two years. And I thought I'd done a pretty good job of making myself seem normal thus far...
As my entire family circles around us and pesters Brandon with questions, it comes out that he doesn't like cats (naturally, one of the most straining differences in our relationship to this day).
Dad: "Yes!" [fist pump]
Brother-in-law Eric: "Yeah!! Another one in the family!"

Heaven help me. And as if that weren't enough, when I brought him there the next time to spend a nice, relaxing weekend with my quickly-forgiven family, we just happened to have a house flood, complete with disaster clean-up crews pulling up carpet and hammering walls away into the wee hours of the morning. A sleepless night. Not quite what I had envisioned.

And yet here we are a year+ later, married.

Bottom line: Miracles happen, guys.