“Least romantic proposal ever.” He pulled me back by the shoulders. “Marilyn Kleinman,” he said. “The day you let me know you would be open to accepting that, believe me, I’ll make the show you want of it. Until then, this will have to do.” And he pulled me in to him, kissing me deeply until the world spun. “Where did a rabbi’s son learn to kiss like that?” “Do you really want to know the answer to that question?” “No,” I laughed. “But do it again.” He obliged. And for a moment, I believed that the letter would do its job and things could continue exactly as they were.
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