The dog sneezed.
“Strong opinion.”
“He’s family,” I said.
“Yes.”
I looked around the apartment.
The green lamp.
Harbor windows.
Leah’s quilt folded over the chair.
The keys with the brass tag.
Reid beside me.
Nothing about the room had changed.
Everything had.
“I thought marriage would prove we were real,” I said.
Reid looked at me.
“We were real before.”
“I know.”
“So why now?”
I considered.
“Because I don’t want the future to be only something I fear.”
His eyes shone.
“I want to claim part of it.”
He lifted my ringed hand and kissed it.
“Claim as much as you want.”
“I want you in it.”
“I’m already there.”
I leaned into him.
His arms came around me.
The day’s noise faded.
My body had begun to tire—the soft warning that came before my words and balance began to fail. I recognized it.
Did not resent it.
