Tony paced the living room like a man about to rob a bank, clutching a ring pop he’d clearly bought at the gas station. “Okay, don’t freak out,” he said, sweat already dripping. “But would you, um… maybe… marry me? Just for, you know, 24 hours. Tops. Until the money clears.” He thrust the sticky candy forward. “I’ll cut you in—thirty percent. That’s nine hundred grand. Plus, free dental coverage. Probably.”
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