His eyes shone.
I regretted speaking only because I saw how much it meant.
Not because he had no right to feel it.
Because I could not promise the dream would become more.
“I wrote it down.”
“Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I know.”
He lifted our joined hands and rested his mouth briefly against my knuckles.
The kiss was not sexual.
It still sent warmth through my chest.
“What are we doing tonight?” I asked.
Reid’s eyebrows rose.
“The date.”
“I remember.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you might have decided I need rest.”
“You always need rest.”
“That sounds romantic.”
“I have adapted the plan.”
He reached for another piece of bread.
“Dinner here. Something easy. We can sit near the windows if the rain stops. Then a film with no complicated plot.”
“What kind?”
“I considered an action film, but explosions may be unpleasant.”
“Yes.”
“A comedy might require too much attention.”
“Probably.”
“So I found a documentary about a man restoring an abandoned lighthouse.”
I stared.
