I lift an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You feel something,” she says.
I study her face in the dimming light.
“Yeah,” I admit.
“What?”
“Peace.”
Her expression softens.
“That scares you?” she asks gently.
“It used to.”
“And now?”
“Now it feels earned.”
She traces a line down the front of my shirt with her fingertip.
“You still think about her?” she asks carefully.
“Yes.”
She nods once. “And?”
“And it doesn’t hurt the way it used to.”
“You don’t have to bury anything to stand with me,” I whisper.
“I’m not burying anything,” I say firmly. “I’m finally building again.”
Her eyes flash at that. “You’re very certain tonight.”
“I am.”
Her breath catches slightly when I draw her closer.
“You’re my wife,” I say quietly.
She exhales slowly, like the word hits deep.
“Say it again.”
“My wife.”
Her mouth curves.
“I like how that sounds.”
“I love how it feels.”
The music shifts again behind us — something slow and overly romantic. Axel must have bribed the DJ.
“Dance with me,” she says.
