The dog lifted his head from the rug.
“Reid.”
My chest tightened.
“Good choice.”
“The ring one day.”
I covered his hand.
“One day.”
“And maybe a trip when I can handle airports.”
“Where?”
“Nova Scotia.”
The plan we once made.
He did not remember making it.
He chose it anyway.
I kissed his palm.
“Then we start there.”
“Not with the trip.”
“No?”
“With dinner.”
“What are we having?”
Noah looked toward the refrigerator.
“Something requiring one hand and no advanced planning.”
“Sandwiches.”
“Yes.”
We made them together.
He cut tomatoes.
I found the mustard.
Marlowe waited beneath the counter.
Nothing about the evening was worth four hundred thousand dollars.
Nothing about it could be purchased.
Noah stood beside me, tired and sore and alive.
