She pulls her hand back, placing it in her free one, staring down at the ring I had flown in for her. A lone tear escapes her cheek and plops on the back of her hand before she looks up.
“Thank you. I planned to come back, you know.”
Lorien is the picture of responsibility. Of course she would come back. Her job and her home are here. I’d love to think that after a few nights away, she’d come back for me, but I can’t say I know that with certainty.
I dip my head in acknowledgment. “Tell me about your family. How deep doesThe Lord of the Ringslove go?”
Her eyes slice to slits. “Are there cameras in my parents’ house too?”
“Your brother is Strider. Your sister is Sam. It’s a fair assumptionthe naming convention wasn’t S’s when they named you after Lothlórien, the Golden Woods and the home of Galadriel. They named you in birth order after the savior, the helper, and the sanctuary.”
“I was named after the place that mounted the resistance.” She sits taller.
“It was both,” I offer quietly.
“Yes.” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I want to be both.”
“You already are, Wifey.” There’s no humor in her nickname, but there is honesty.
“My parents are superfans, but not in the cringy way. They met in college, way before the movies came out, in a group that loved the books. Our house isn’t covered in trinkets. But it’s kind of our moral compass. Some folks have a family bible. Ours has the trilogy.”
“AndThe Silmarillion?”
She leans forward and hisses in a whisper. “Don’t bring that up.” She looks around as if I said earth lives inside a large pyramid and our whole existence is a simulation.
I don’t even try to fight the smile on my lips. “Why? What’s wrong with it? Other than it’s too long.”
“One.” She lifts a finger and it’s obvious the woman I know is back. “It starts an argument between my parents. They differ in their opinions and sometimes they get animated about those differences. And two, we never discuss length.”
“So you’re a girth girl?”
Her face flushes red and it’s not in anger.
“Three, never say girth in front of my parents. They’re middle-America, family meal, Sunday protestants who have never heard that word spoken in their presence.”
“They’ve been married more than forty years. I’m betting they have a raunchy sex life. I’ll ask.” I’m poking the bear, but the look on her face is so worth it.
Her mouth falls open and shut, and she waves both hands as she stutters. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“We’ll see.” I lift one shoulder and gesture to the plates. “Did you want dessert?”
She scrunches her face and shakes her head. “Nah. I’ll eat Mom’s baking because it’s expected. And delicious, of course.” She extends a hand like she’s just revealed something she didn’t mean to. “But I’m not really a dessert person.”
Aside from her baking, I am. But if I tell her I like sweets, there will be attempts, and I can’t get on board with that.
My marriage is working out like a diet. I didn’t want either, but both could be good for me in the long run.
Lorien
The whole point of coming to the airport long before I needed to be here was to escape the man next to me. Since I can’t, I dread the mere thought of spending twelve hours or more here instead of sleeping in my own bed.
We’re wandering through the terminal when I finally cut my losses. “So, the flight isn’t until ten tomorrow…”
“Yeah?”
“Do you think we can leave and come back in the morning? Will they allow that? Or are we stuck?”
He lifts his phone, thumbs flying over the screen, before he replies, “We can go home.”
