Baby. Another rush of pleasure and affection shimmers through me.
“It wasn’t all bad,” I tell him. “My friends were the artists, the theatre kids, the misfits. They made life livable.”
He fingers the rose-gold tips of my hair. “Sounds like you found your people.”
I look at my brooding cowboy husband. Tall, dark, and gorgeous athlete on the outside. Quiet gentle nerd on the inside. I just want to throw my arms around him and hug him tight. I can’t believe I got so lucky with him.
“I did find my people,” I confirm.And you, I think silently.My person.
“I think we would have been friends in high school,” I say instead.
He shakes his head. “Nope.”
I give an exaggerated pout to disguise the genuine sting of hurt at his answer. “Why not?”
“I would have been too intimidated by you.”
“Byme?”
“You would have been way too cool and artsy for me. I would have been too tongue-tied to even talk around you in high school. Let alone be friends. I would have had a huge crush on you and quietly pined from afar.”
I try to picture teenage Slade. Probably just as tall, though probably not quite as muscular yet. No dark shadow of stubble, but those same serious green eyes. I’d bet he was gorgeous back then too, and probably just as careless of it.
He would have had a huge crush on me?
“And if we were in high school,” I admit, “I would have hada huge crush right back. Except I would have been trying to get your attention in the most embarrassingly obvious ways.” I coyly twirl a lock of my hair.“Accidentally dropping my papers right as you walked by, hoping you’d stop to help.Sitting one row behind you in whatever class we shared so I could tap you on the shoulder to borrow a pencil. Asking you to open my locker because the lock was ‘stuck.’”
He’s watching me with something tender and amused in his expression, his body angled toward mine, the book forgotten in his lap.
“The desperation would have been very visible,” I conclude.
His mouth curves. “I would have been oblivious to all of it.”
“I know,” I say. “That’s the tragic part.”
“Then I’m glad we met when we did.” His hand rests on my knee and squeezes once, sending heat moving up my leg and into my chest simultaneously.
As his gaze turns towards the fire, his hand stays on my knee.
“So are Kyle and Anders still your people?” I ask, not ready for our conversation to end quite yet.
“We still text. Kyle’s trying to get me to do a campaign over video call. Remote D&D. Anders is in Colorado. I’ll see him more next season when I’m in Denver.”
Next season.
Denver.
We’ll be divorced by then.
“That’ll be nice,” I say, past the tightness in my throat. “Catching up with an old friend.”
“Yeah,” he says. “Should be good.”
He goes back to his book like he hasn’t just casually reminded me that this, the home we share, his arm warmbehind my shoulders, Lucky sprawled between us, has an expiration date.
I tip my head back against his arm. Try to shove the sadness to the back of my mind and embrace the moment.
“Never thought I’d be married to a paladin,” I tease.
