What if Donna hadn’t gone to the Birchmere with her sister that night on her birthday to see John Prine and gotten seated at a table with six men, and Tom – the only single one – ordered cake for the whole table and demanded that the entire audience sing happy birthday to her before the show started?

What if he wasn’t so great about making her laugh, like the first time they made love, and she was so embarrassed to be naked that she pulled her tiny undies back on afterward, and he looked over and said “What, are you cold?” Or that Wednesday afternoon that he texted “I love you!” at 2:45, and when she answered “Me too” at 2:47, he said “What took you so long? What were you doing at 2:46?”

What if he hadn’t dropped to his hands and knees that time in the park after he picked up a full pack of cigarettes left under a tree, sweeping his fingers through the nearby grass like he’d lost his keys, and when she asked what he was doing, he said, “Looking for the matches.”

What if he wasn’t such a force when they visited her parents they seemed happier to see him than they did her these days, and somehow her parents liking him so much made him less appealing to her.

What if when they went to her brother’s for dinner he didn’t play with the littles so long she couldn’t help but see what a great father he’d be if they had kids, but also noticed he didn’t hang out with the grownups?

What if he didn’t always want to spend money, his and hers, on vacations and dinners and tech toys, and when she cautioned him, said, “What’s life for if not to enjoy it? Money is a construct,” even though he knew how much she hated that word, or maybe it was because he knew how much she hated it?

What if he weren’t always so cheerful, so that she didn’t dare mention anything she was worried about because he’d always think of a reason it was a good thing something bad happened, like maybe she didn’t get a promotion because she would have hated her new boss and this way she could look for something perfect?

What if when he asked her to marry him in their favorite little neighborhood café, standing and telling the whole place that he had chosen her, she had ignored the photographer who appeared from the kitchen and her parents and friends waiting in a group to congratulate and toast them, and the claps of the other diners and the buzzing sound in her head and said, “Don’t we need to figure out a few things first?”

What if when they stopped to get Dairy Queen on their way back from their beach weekend a few days before their wedding and as he was waiting to order she saw his shorts bunched up into his rear like they always did and thought, “I can’t stand a lifetime of seeing this” and when he turned around to hand her the cone he saw her face and said, “What? Did you want something else?” and she could have said “Yes, I do. I want something else.”