He slips his hand from my skin, and before he can run—before he can say anything—I tuck my bad leg behind me, and I kneel onto my right knee. I look up at him from the floor of the back room where we used to make love, from the place I first fell in love with not only his work but him, and I say, “I only want you. And I’m ready now.” I can’t read his face. My eyes are pricking, and he’s getting blurry. So I clarify, repeating his words. “Marry me.”
omfg wait that is kinda clever
