Priscilla's Version:

On the day I met James, I was wildly hungover (which rarely happens so it was serious) and tried canceling on my friend Sophie who kept trying to make me go out with her and these guys who she had just met the night before. I wasn't able to get out of the plans but did show up about four hours late that day. My game plan was to show up for a bit, lay low and then run home as soon as possible. Instead I met James and we chatted the entire night. He even convinced me to go to the next place with the group (shock). A couple of hours later as I was leaving to meet my Indian takeout at home, he asked for my number and I gave it to him.

James already talked about our first date so I won't go into more detail except for the fact that I did NOT "clean him out" when I tried to trip him, but I did mess it up and it may have SEEMED as though I just kicked him instead. It was still a great first date.

I will share when I first started to realize that he was going to be the person that I married. Less than three months into dating James and a month before the trip, I casually invited him to Texas to spend New Years with me and to meet my family at a party. I genuinely did not think he would make the effort, but he worked with his parents to change his flights to Texas to meet me. A flight diversion from hell and a six hour drive with a stranger (my cousin Edward) later, he made it to the valley. A party with my family is a cool 100 people getting together to drink and dance which can be intimidating for some, but in true James fashion, he thrived. Most importantly, he fell into step with my family as if he was always meant to be there.

Since then, James and I have navigated four years in London together, two years and counting in Boston and one year of our incredibly clever and beautiful daughter, Emilia. It's safe to say that I am really glad that I went out that day six years ago.

P&J