Page 173 of Smoke and Glitter

Fiancée. I'm going to need some time with the word.

We slip through the back door and sit on the step. The cold gets through my shirt quickly enough that I move into his side, and Sam puts an arm around me while taking my left hand in his.

His thumb passes over the ring, then does it again.

"You know it's still there."

"I like looking at it."

"You've been looking at it for hours."

"Still like it."

I laugh and rest my head against his shoulder.

For a while, we listen to the house behind us. Jake is telling someone a story I've already heard twice, Marisol and Bex are laughing loudly enough to carry through the glass, and every so often Summer's voice cuts through the rest.

I turn my hand beneath the porch light and watch the ring catch it.

"Colt really helped?"

Sam laughs under his breath. "More than I wanted him to."

"He's going to tell people he picked it."

"He's already told Dom that."

"I'll correct the record."

I settle back against him. For a minute, neither of us speaks. Then I think about London and the question I asked him when I finally stopped accepting whatever answer required the least from him.

"Sam."

His thumb stills against my hand.

"What do you want?"

The question used to stop everything. Sam would think too long, find the safest true answer and hand it back dressed up enough that I might not notice what he'd kept.

This time, he just answers.

"I want you at the end of the bar at Smoke when it opens. I want to know what you think when I put the plate up, and I want your stuff mixed in with mine until neither of us remembers what started where."

His fingers move between mine.

"I want you telling me the architect is wrong."

"He is."

A smile pulls at his mouth. "Frequently."

"Thank you."

His fingers tighten around mine.

"I want to get old with you."

That takes the smile right off my face.