Page 368 of Safe With You

Click.

“Y’all can look at me now.”

They turned.

I got a few more before lowering the camera.

“All right. I think we’re good.”

“That’s it?” she asked.

“That’s it.”

Her husband let out a breath.

She looked at him. “Don’t look so happy.”

He laughed, and I started packing my equipment.

It was easy between them. Not perfect—I didn’t know them well enough to know anything about that—but familiar in a way that probably took years to build.

Fifteen years of knowing how the other one took a joke, which argument wasn’t really an argument, when to reach for a hand without asking for it first.

The kind of things nobody decided to start doing. They just happened slowly enough that one day they belonged to the life you built together.

I zipped my camera bag.

I thought about Luna.

Nothing big. Just her.

The way she reached for my hand now without looking first. The way she settled into the corner of my couch like she already knew which spot she wanted. The way she’d said Bug’s my girl without thinking twice about it. The way she’d asked if she could stay.

I smiled to myself.

They were little things, the kind that didn’t seem like much while they were happening.

I slung the camera bag over my shoulder.

“Happy anniversary,” I told them.

“Thank you.”

“Send me the good ones,” her husband said.

His wife looked at him. “He’s sending us all the good ones.”

“That’s what I meant.”

“That’s not what you said.”

I laughed.

“Y’all have a good one.”

I left them to their argument and headed toward my truck.

Ten years.