Hurricane Ida was raging in Hell's Kitchen. We were tucked inside, nice and cozy, on an early September evening. Zoë was asleep on our velvet sofa and Goose, our Italian greyhound puppy was cuddled up next to her. Grace had the ring and was planning on proposing in a few weeks, on a Provincetown adventure. The romance of the moment, and her spontaneous nature took over instead. Candles were lit, silk pants were donned, sweet Zoë was gently woken to a kneeling Grace. "I wanted to ask you, here, in our home, where we love each other." The ring was presented, pulled out of the silk pocket. Zoë gasped, "Yes, yes, yes." We both teared up. The next day we went to dinner at Cafe Luxumbourg and Grace proposed again, this time publicly and caught on video. The ring came out atop creme brulee. Grace kept alluding to it being hidden in food throughout the dinner. "Is it in the fries?", "Is it under the coffee cup?"

I proposed second (which was really just an excuse to give her a beautiful ring, since we’d already said yes) over NYC’s best chocolate chip cookies from Orwasher’s on the Upper West Side. I had gone to get the ring, which had belonged to my great great Grandmother Elizabeth, and given to my mom when my dad proposed, sized. It was in my purse. I didn’t have a proposal plan yet, but I was so excited to give it to her, I simply couldn’t wait another second. So we went for cookies, and as we were eating them, I pulled it out and asked her to be my wife. It made some very special cookies even more special.