There is something that I’ll need to discuss with you if you agree to marry me, but it isn’t that I’m terminally ill. I’m not ill at all.” “You want to marry me?” Terri asked with pleasure. Bastien rolled his eyes. “Terri, honey. I just flew two thousand three hundred miles chasing after you. It wasn’t to ask you on a date.” “Oh, Bastien!” She launched herself off the couch. Bastien caught her with an, “oomph,” then found his face peppered with little butterfly kisses.
-Lynsay Sands
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