Like that’s enough.
Like he doesn’t need anything else except for me to be…me.
Content in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever been before, I say, “I think you have to teach me to skate first.”
He shrugs. “That’ll take no time at all.”
“Confident much?”
“I kind of skate for a living, darlin’.”
“I kind of like it when you call meStitchmore.”
He chuckles. “So are we thinking a French braid? Or maybe one of those Fishtails? Dutch braids?”
“Been Googling, huh?”
“It’s one of my many skills.”
“Hmm.”
He tugs at my hair. “Have I told you I really like this?”
“Yes, you have.” I touch his chestnut brown locks. “I like yours too.”
“Thanks, Stitch.” A smile, a tap to the tip of my nose, then a nod toward the coffee table. “You need some help with your blanket?”
I shake my head. “I was just passing the time.”
“Okay.” He slips his arm around me. “So more boring history?”
“It’s not boring!”
A chuckle. “Want some popcorn to go with that all that boring?”
I toss him a mock glare.
He just cups my cheek and chuckles again, but when he puts his empty glass down on the table and stands, I notice?—
“You’re not wearing your ring.”
The words slip out before I can decide whether I should say them or not…and then I realize Ishouldn’thave.
Because he goes so very still.
“Ignore me,” I whisper, jumping to my feet. “I shouldn’t have?—”
“It’s okay,” he says. “Youshouldask.”
Pain lances across my chest.
Because I know how much it must have cost him to take it off.
“Rhodes—” I wrap my arms around him, hug him tight.
“I’m okay.”
“I know you are.”
