He drops to one knee and slides a box from his pocket. “Chloe Hahn Pham, will you marry me?”
I look to Bree, who shrugs, and then back to him, barely able to process what is happening. My breath catches in my throat. “I—”
His eyebrows shoot up. “I’m sorry. You know I’m not great with stuff like this. Maybe I should have made a sign or had music, or something. If this is too soon—”
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