When she slips on my ring, it feels like I can take my first breath in four weeks.
Which is bullshit.
“I’m sorry, babe.”
She pauses mid-admiring the ring. “What for?”
“That we live in a messed-up society where rings on fingers are a claim that men recognize.”
Denny blinks then coos, “That, Zachary Bradley, is one of the many reasons why I love you.”
There are those fucking words again!“I’m a dumbass.”
“My dumbass.”
“I’m shit with feelings.”
She wafts a hand. “Aren’t we both?”
“True.”
“We need to talk about your mom more. You can’t be bottling this stuff up inside, Zach. It’ll make you explode one day.”
“I know.” I stare at my feet. “It’s not fair for you to have to deal with my temper.”
“You definitely need a healthier release.”
“I like coming in you.”
“I like it too,” she drawls. “Two weeks.”
I gust out my cheeks. “Two weeks. I can do this.”
She blows me a kiss. “Wecan do this.”
“D?”
“Yes, baby.”
“The ring… no pressure. You know that, right?”
She nods. “I know that.”
“I mean… you wanna go to Vegas like your mom tomorrow, we can,” I say in a rush. “I can buy the tickets right now.”
That has her chuckling. “Maybe not tomorrow, but someday.”
Hope filters through me, making my shoulders drop with relief as I sag back in my chair and look at the love of my life, my best friend in the whole world, as she blinks watery eyes at me from her bed in Spain. “Yeah?”
Her smile grows as she rubs her thumb over the diamond solitaire I bought her. “Yeah.”
“D?”
“What?”
“You wanna talk about your dad?”
“You sure you want to? It’s a clusterfuck.”
