“I do.”
She says it so simply. A declaration, if not quite a vow.
I smile the rest of the way, now. “I want you around, too.”
I watch Sports Center while Kayla gets ready for bed. She comes out of the bathroom with her face washed and her curls twisted up in a silk scarf, like she’s halfway between bedtime and a Vogue cover. And then it’s my turn. I take off my wedding ring and then my watch, but my finger catches on the thick brown hair tie, and I hesitate. If I take it off, she’ll find it in the morning and think it’s hers. She’ll put it in her bag, maybe, or use it.
But what if she needs it later and doesn’t have one? Maybe not tomorrow, but the next day? Next week?
I keep it on my wrist and get ready for bed.
When I come back, Kayla’s already made up the couch, sleeping in the makeshift bed she’s made for herself.
I laugh. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”
“I’m already in here. Sorry, Cap. You’re taking the bed tonight.”
“I’m not taking the bed.”
“Your knees?—”
“Are knees, not a back. They won’t be affected by a couch.”
I snap and point toward the bedroom. “Get in there before I pick you up and take you there.”
She hesitates, like there’s a debate playing out in her mind. Then she throws the sheet off.
“Fine. But only because you’re such a gentleman.”
She holds out a hand, and I pull her up.
Close.
I should stop myself from bringing my hand up to her cheek.
I don’t, but I should.
I stroke her skin with my thumb, and her breath catches in her throat. She grabs my wrist, and her eyes flit down to the elastic.
She blinks again.
I swallow, suddenly feeling twelve kinds of exposed. “It, uh, keeps the sweat off my watch.”
She just looks at it for a moment, something unreadable passing behind her eyes. And then she bites her lip and peers up at me through her auburn eyelashes. She runs her index finger beneath the hair tie, grazing the skin on my wrist until I about melt.
She inclines her head toward mine, and I close my eyes, hoping. Waiting. Her warm breath whispers against my lips, making them part.
“Good night, husband.”
Then I feel her mouth on my cheek. Feel her let go. Hear the click of the bedroom door, all before I can even open my eyes back up again.
I fall onto the couch, holding my fist to my forehead in agony. In hope. In the sure knowledge that the longer I’m sleeping on a couch this close to her, the harder it’s going to be to sleep at all.
“Good night, wife.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
KAYLA
