He lifts his spoon to a chocolate parfait, filling it with mousse. “Is that right?”
“I’m almost completely positive.”
The chocolate mousse appears in front of my lips before I can take a bite of my sandwich. When I look up, Samson’s eyes glitter. “Behave yourself,wife.”
As soon as my mouth falls open and heat suffuses throughout my every cell, Samson dresses my tongue with the chocolate. While I’m battling the explosion of sweetness, Samson scoops another bite for himself.
I melt.
Into oblivion.
He rests his cheek against the top of my head, and I worry he’ll feel my heart pounding up through my skull, but he doesn’t seem to care as he digs into a cake, then a pie, then a pudding. His blissful sigh wraps around me a moment before his, “Best wife ever,” decimates my ability to function.
My fingers. They’re trembling around my sandwich, and it’s a miracle I return it to my plate after taking a bite. In this quaint, quiet corner of the cafe, no one else exists. As orders for coffees and teas ring out, the stillness between Samson and me consumes my thoughts.
This is everything.
Belonging amid a crowd.
Safety without any fear.
Wetting my lips, I say, “H-husband…can I try that one?” I point at a yellow cream custard.
A low, affirming sound vibrates against me before he delivers the bite to my lips. With his own spoon. Which he has now used.
Given that my spirit has left my body and ascended to higher planes, it’s really quite graceful how I accept the indirect kiss without asking Samson to marry me for real. After all, I can’t propose without a circlet. It would be so rude to not spare Samson every correct means of adoration and respect.
“Good?” he murmurs.
Blessedly, I don’t choke when I swallow too soon to say, “Sogood. Thank you.”
He nuzzles and continues eating like this is normal.
I’m obsessed with the idea of this becoming normal.
So, even after we eat, I keep up the nonsense.
Stampeding heart lodged in my throat, I hold Samson’s hand while we meander the market. When he stops us in front of a stall, I smile sweetly and say, “What is it, dear?”
He slips a yellow clip into my hair, and his lips soften. “Cute.”
The shopkeeper bubbles. “Adorable! Does your girlfriend like bracelets? That clip has a matching set.”
Samson chuckles. “I think she prefers lethal jewelry, and, also, she’s my wife.” Needlessly, Samson faces the shopkeeper and explains, “We’ve traveled in from the Ridge to get her fitted for some armor.”
“Aww!” The young woman clasps her hands together. “A young adventurer couple. That’s so sweet. I don’t think I have any discreet weapons, but I do have a few blessed trinkets…”
My eyes follow the direction the woman guides, and I gasp as a familiartrinketsteals all my attention. “Is that—”
Samson’s big hand closes over my eyes. “No.”
I grab his fingers, shoving them down. “But I’m almost positive—”
“You’re mistaken.”
“Isn’t that a glow ring!”
The shopkeeper chirps, “Yes!”
