“You’d get so much engagement,” Sloane adds. “People love that kind of stuff.”
“And it gives me an excuse to eat my way through Jersey,” I say, eyeing the wings.
Bit snorts.
“As if you needed an excuse.”
I gasp, pretending like I’m actually insulted.
Then, we laugh some more.
Talk.
Throw ideas around.
And for a while, it’s just easy.
Just fun.
Just normal.
The kind of normal I never thought I’d get back.
Three wings in—okay, maybe four—I feel it.
That shift.
That awareness.
Like my body knows before my brain catches up.
I don’t even have to look.
I know he’s here.
My whole body lights up.
Warms.
Settles.
Like something inside me just clicked into place.
My husband.
My love.
Benji.
I glance up—and there he is, walking in with Sawyer and Micah, boots heavy against the floor, shoulders broad, presence impossible to ignore.
He scans the room automatically.
Always does.
Always looking.
Always aware.
