He waited.
“I like when you’re angry on my behalf.”
A rough laugh left him. “That may be neurological damage.”
“No.”
I reached for his hand.
His fingers closed around mine.
“Did you truly ask me to marry you because of taxes?”
His expression flattened. “You have decided to weaponize that story.”
“Indefinitely.”
“You do not even remember it.”
“I require no memory. It is perfect.”
“I had a different plan.”
“The ring.”
“Yes.”
“What does it look like?”
His gaze sharpened. “Would you like to see it?”
I thought about the safe below us.
About a ring chosen for someone I could not remember being.
“No.”
Relief and disappointment crossed his face at the same time.
“Not yet,” I added.
“All right.”
“What if I never want to see it?”
“Then it remains in the safe.”
“Would you sell it?”
“No.”
“What would you do?”
“Keep it.”
“Why?”
“Because I bought it while believing in something.”
