“I hadn’t noticed,” he said, sitting down in front of the table.
I snorted and started to dig through the bag, setting our food out in front of us. Maybe I’d ordered a little bit too much, but we needed leftovers to get us through until I could arrange a grocery delivery.
He dug into his with gusto, half the sweet and sour chicken gone in minutes.
“Hungry?” I asked dryly as I slowly worked on my cashew chicken.
“Little bit,” he said, looking a little sheepish.
“You’re going to choke,” I told him.
“At least I’ll die happy,” he said. “I love this stuff.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t keep the smile from my lips. He was home, here with me, and I was content. After we ate, I’d pull him back into my arms, and we’d sit theretogether — both of us wanting to be there, both of us full and happy.
And we’d face the next day together.
And the day after that.
And forever.
EPILOGUE
TOBY
“Ibrought something home for you,” he said.
I paused my show on the iPad and looked up at him with a smile, my eyes going to the red rose in his hand.
“Really?” I asked, quirking a brow.
“Really,” he confirmed. “It’s been three months since you came back.” His smile faltered a little, and he gave me that wounded puppy look — like he was just waiting for me to shoot him down.
I took the thornless rose from him and inhaled deeply, catching the subtle scent of the flower. “It’s beautiful,” I told him.
“Yeah?” Relief crossed his features, and I reached up with my other hand to catch his with my own. Our fingers twined together. “I hoped you’d like it.”
“I do. Thank you. Where’s a vase?” I asked, squeezing his hand before letting go so I could put the iPad down and stand up.
“Kitchen cabinet, above the cups,” he directed me. Helifted a grocery bag, showing it to me. “I got you something else,” he said, a little bit of a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
“Uh oh,” I said, deadpan. I never minded his gifts. Sometimes they were for his kitten, and sometimes they were for me. Either way, he spoiled me rotten, making sure I had everything I could ever want — let alone what I needed.
I traipsed into the kitchen, bare feet plodding along the cool tile floor, and searched out a vase. I found one, filling it with water just as he followed me in and set the bag down on the counter.
I set the vase on the kitchen table before carefully sliding the rose into its place. “So what did you get?” I asked him.
He pulled out a package, smirking at me. “Tuna.”
I started to groan, but then I realized he’d gotten the real stuff. I perked up. It had been forever since I’d had an actual filet of tuna. “Real tuna?” I asked hopefully.
He set the package on the counter. “Real tuna,” he told me, unpacking a few more items from the other bag. “And I’m not cooking the shit out of it.”
I snorted. “I wouldn’t want you to. Are you going to feed it to me?”
He started, glancing at me as though he wasn’t sure whether I was serious. We still had moments like this, where he didn’t know what I was really willing to do, and we were still learning about one another.
“I can if you want,” he said cautiously.
