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“Quit!”
His grin was infectious as he finished up her foot. “There,” he said, and he patted her leg as he stood. “All bandaged up.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem.”
“No, it...I have been a problem for you today. And you took care of me anyway. You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”
He stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “I’ll get you some coffee,” he finally said. “Take it the same?”
“Don’t use the sketchy milk,” she teased, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
“No sketchy milk. Got it.”
While he prepared her coffee, she picked up a stack of photos that were sitting on his coffee table. “Oh,” she breathed as she looked at them. “These are...”
“Us,” he finished for her when her voice trailed off.
And they were. Photo after photo, memory after memory, the nostalgia washed over her.
***
“Do you think thesewill turn out?” she asked as she snuggled in closer, placing a kiss on his cheek as he snapped another photo.
“Either they will, or we have a roll of wasted film.”
“Ren, shut up and kiss me.”
Another click as he turned to her, his arm still outreached snapping photos as he kissed her.
Soon, the camera was dropped, forgotten as he traced unseen patterns on her skin while their kisses grew in passion.
“I love it when you do that,” she breathed against his lips.
“I love you, Trina.” The sincerity in his eyes caused her stomach to dip, and she cradled his face in her hands.
“I love you,” she said in return.
“For real?”
“This is as real as it gets.”
***
“Iremember that night,” she said, placing the photos back on the table.
“So do I.”
He held her gaze as he stood in place, her coffee in his hand. With a shake of his head, he moved, handing her coffee to her and taking a seat beside her.
“Ren—”
“You said she knows. Miranda, you said she knows about me.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
