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He held his left hand above us, tilting it back and forth so the light glinted off the band. “Since last week, we’ve probably spent more time not wearing these than we have. But if I had a ring tattooed on my finger, I couldn’t take it off.”

“True,” I said, dragging out the word.

“But?” Cally prompted.

“How did you know I had a but?”

“The best butt.” He smacked my ass, his fingers digging in for a playful shake. Then, “I could hear it in your voice.”

I sighed. We’d talked about this, then talked about it some more, never fully coming around to a solution. We wanted to shout from the rooftops that we were in love and married, but we didn’t want to deal with all the bullshit that would result from doing so.

“But,” I stressed. “Our teammates would freak out if you showed up one day with ink on your finger. The whole point of getting physical rings was to avoid any questions until we have real answers.”

Cally growled. “I hate this.”

I shifted closer, dropping my chin onto his chest and draping an arm across his middle. “I know you do.”

We’d known this wouldn’t be easy.

And even if we’d been naive or stupid enough to think it might be, the four other members of the group Bell had dubbed “The Big Queer Fellowship” had firmly disabused us of that notion at our post-wedding lunch.

Cally and I were walking a tightrope between protecting our careers and living our lives, and neither of us was an acrobat. At some point, one of us was bound to stumble, and then what?

To quote Bell quoting Gandalf, “Fly, you fools!”

Fnding out our charismatic, chaos demon of a captain was also secretly a nerd had been very illuminating.

“Hey. Have you heard back from your mom yet?” Cally asked suddenly, his voice worried.

“Yeah. She texted this morning. Grandma’s pissed.”

He let out a small, fond chuckle. He really loved my grandma. “How much trouble are you in?”

“Oh, I’m not the one who’s trouble. That’s all you.”

He sat up, the sudden movement dumping me off of him. “What? Why?”

I flopped onto my back, clutching my stomach as a laugh burst out of me at the sheer panic on his face. God, I loved fucking with this man.

“You failed to ask her for my hand in marriage,” I cackled.

Cally shoved my shoulder, breaking into a grin. “Fuck you. I thought I was really in trouble.”

“I mean, you kind of are,” I said, wheezing. “My grandma does not play about her sweet boy.”

He blew out an anxious breath, scratching at the stubble lining his jaw. “Was I really supposed to ask her if it was okay if we got married?”

I decided to go easy on him. Cally’s default was to catastrophize about everything. I didn’t need to add even more stress.

“No, I’m just fucking with you. Grandma loves you, but she did make Mom promise we’d come home this summer so she can throw us a party,” I said, tugging him back down.

He spun onto his side facing me, his hands tucked up under his cheek. “I’ve been thinking⁠—”

He was cut off by his phone buzzing aggressively on his bedside table. He groaned, burying his face into his pillow.

“Ignore it,” I told him as the vibrations sent his phone skittering toward the table’s edge.

“I can’t,” he grumbled. “That’s Donovan. It could be about the Aucoin campaign—they’re supposed to make a decision this week.”