Be my date!

Working on Saturday—what about Saturday night? Even . . . Friday night...What say?" Oh please, let her be free, now that he'd gone that far. Oh please! My luck can not be that bad!

"Well, I have to...umm...I have to—"

"Be my date this weekend? Please? Please...Please... The wedding isn't until Saturday night, so that would work, right? If you can't do Friday night I will understand, but if there's any way you could come to the rehearsal dinner with me, I would . . . I don't know what I would do. Really appreciate it? I would be thankful. Buy you all the cheese you wanted?" How did he go from zero to babbling and pleading with this woman in thirty seconds flat?

"Mark..., I . . . Are you sure? Do you know what you are saying?"

He smiled. With that question, he knew he'd almost got her. There was now a hope!

"Positive. Come to the wedding, be my burger, protect me from poisoning and disaster. It'll be your good deed for the year. And it's only May—look at you, getting your good deed for the year done before the year is even half over! Please Stella! Please!" He was so close to victory; he could tell by the smile in her eyes as she looked up at him. "Come on, Stella." He touched her shoulder. "Save me."

She took a deep breath, and he held his own breath, as she considered his words.

"When you put it like that, what else can I say? Fine! I'll do it."