“I stepped backward into empty space.”
“Marian has your bank passwords.”
“That is deeply upsetting when you say it aloud.”
I smiled.
Reid did not.
His gaze met mine in the mirror, and the humor left me gently.
“You’re really nervous.”
“A little.”
“About marrying me?”
His expression changed so fast I regretted the question.
He turned, catching my waist with both hands.
“Never about that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
I touched the line between his eyebrows.
It remained even when the rest of his face softened.
Two years had not erased his habit of preparing for catastrophe. He was better at naming it now. Better at admitting fear before it hardened into rules. Better at allowing other people to carry parts of the life he had once insisted on holding alone.
But weddings apparently brought back his belief that everything could go wrong if he failed to watch every door.
“Tell me the list,” I said.
“What list?”
“The disasters you’ve imagined.”
His mouth tightened.
I waited.
“The weather changes.”
“The ceremony is inside.”
“The power fails.”
“We own generators.”
“You get a headache.”
“There’s a dark room set up in the office.”
