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"I tried planning it all out," I muttered into the foam. "Grand gestures. I considered skywriting. I even thought about a flash mob. I even tried baking cookies, Harry. They looked like charcoal and I'm the best at those, but I managed to fuck it up. My dog Trix wouldn't even sniff them, and he eats his own butt."
Harry laughed genuinely, the type that creased the corners of his eyes.
"Skywriting? Theo, have you met Mr. Fairchild? The guy gets offended by a crooked tie. Do you really think he's keen on having his private life displayed in smoke across the sky?"
