“Well —” Oh, gosh, now everyone is looking at her. She reaches over and puts her hand over Michael's, her left hand. It's dark in here, and she realises suddenly why she didn't want to make a big deal out of this. Why neither of them wanted to. If only there was some way to have it both ways. At least she can keep reminding herself that during the actual ceremony they get to spend some time alone and no one is allowed to bother them. At least there's that.
“We're getting married. I want you to come.” It's like ripping off a band-aid.
“WHAT!” Tzipporah exclaims at the top of her lungs, causing a few curious patrons to glance towards their table. She throws her arms in the air, her gestures as usual exaggerated. “What! How! When!”