Thiswas the center she had been circling for years, and for the very first time, Ris was able to envision where it might land.
She scratched his stubble that night in bed, gently dragging her nails over the curve of his skull. Ainsley was like a giant cat, pressing his head against her palm when she paused,an insistent, silent demand. Ris laughed softly, continuing the motion.
“Have you thought about what you’re going to do with it when it grows out?” she murmured against his shoulder, feeling his slight shrug beneath her.
He’d shaved his head about a month after their move. It had been impulsive, he’d insisted, standing in the bathroom in a puddle of his long, black hair as she’d gaped like a fish from the hallway. It reminded her of the time-honored tradition of cutting one’s hair after a break-up. A new look, shedding the past, growing into someone new. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t miss it, but she did understand.
“We’ll have to see what it’s like when it does,” Ainsley mused sleepily. “I don’t want to get mentally attached to something and then the texture is all wrong.”
Your partner is being reshaped right now.
She nodded against his shoulder. “Probably smart. You don’t want to pick out something glamorous only to wind up with a cowlick.”
She grinned when he snorted beneath her. He’d been quiet since coming home, and that was fine. She needed to make space for his grief, for as long as he needed.
“I don’t want to talk about this right now and I probably shouldn’t even bring it up . . . just putting it on your radar for tomorrow, I guess. But I was thinking . . . what if we got a pet?”
The goblin’s words had been turning in her mind since therapy.You might want to dip your toes in the waters of experience. A pet would be a good start, she considered.
In an instant, Ris found herself pinned, Ainsley’s sleepiness forgotten as he pressed her down, eyes lit with something that almost looked like his old exuberance. His nose bumped hers, and Ris squealed at the instant reaction.
“Can we get a puppy?”
“Wow,” she laughed. “You’ve really been holding that in for alongtime, I can tell.”
“I grew up in apartment buildings, Nanaya. No pets. I had a gerbil when I was ten, and the troll down the hall let it out one day when he was over playing, and it got into the ventilation system. After that, I wasn’t even allowed to have a fish.”
“The people downstairs have a dog,” she said thoughtfully. “So, we know they’re allowed in the building.”
She’d envisioned a cat in her head. An adorable kitten that would grow into a distant, well-mannered housecat, an independent woman like her, but Ris had to admit she didn’t really have a personal preference.
This was the very first time in the past year that she’d seen him react in a way that was very nearly his old self. If getting a puppy would keep that light in his eyes and the brightness in his smile, he could have ten of them.
“Please,” he begged, rolling them so that she was once again tucked under his arm. “I’ve always wanted a dog. I promise I’ll walk it and feed it every day. You’ll never have to get up in the middle of the night to clean up a puddle.”
“Why didn’t you have one in Starling Heights?” she asked, forgetting that she was the one who’d said they would table the conversation until the following day.
Ainsley blew out an aggrieved breath. “The place was too small. You were there, I barely had room for my stuff, let alone room for a pet. I wasn’t home enough; it wouldn’t have been fair.”
“Ainsley, when are weeverhome now?” She found herself flipped and pinned once more, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
“I will quiteverything. I don’t think you understand how long I’ve wanted this. Besides, this is what you do as an adult. Youslow down, move to the suburbs, get a dog. Maybe I’ll take up fly fishing. You can learn to crochet.”
“I already know how to crochet!” Ris shoved on his shoulder, rolling with him, settling in her spot once more. “And we just movedoutof the suburbs. Okay, no more talking tonight. I said this was for tomorrow. Because we have to seriously look at our schedules before we do anything.”
“Tomorrow you’ll say yes?” he asked into her hair, and the sound of his voice nearly made her start crying again. Joy. Obstinate, infectious joy.He’ll chew his way into your heart, and there’s no scraping him out after that. She didn’t want to. She only wanted to keep this smile on his face.
“Yes,” she whispered, letting her eyes flutter shut, wiping them dry against the pillow. “Tomorrow I’ll say yes.”
Silva
She didn’t know how they always wound up on the same pillow.
She would start the night on her own, she was sure of it. Her face would be pressed to the cool-white cotton, her back tucked against his chest. His arm was a heavy, solid pressure over her, his breath a warm huff above her head, his knee pushed through her legs . . . but without fail, she would wind up turned the other way entirely, pressed to his front, her nose bumping his own from a shared pillow.
“It’s because you’re a bleedin’ octopus with no concept of personal space.”
He was laughing before she even had a chance to react, gasping in outraged offense. His hands caught her wrists easily, anticipating her movements a second before she made them, trapping her in place as she tried to fight her way free, her pride on the line. Silva tried to kick, but he’d shifted his body sideways, an unfair advantage of both height and weight, covering her thighs and trapping her against the mattress. She tried to rain her fists down on his back, but her wrists were pulled back, heldabove her head. She was captured, held down as if she were as weak as a flitting pixie, his laughter transcending sound.
