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‘Seems like a long time since we made that promise,’ I reply. ‘We’re different people. In the best way. You’re a grand slam champion; I’m a high-school graduate who plays in a jazz band with a drag queen.’
‘It’s my favourite drag queen jazz band, if that counts for anything,’ he says. ‘And you also forget that you can now speak French with the proficiency of a seven-year-old.’
My heart swells at the teasing. ‘I missed you.’
‘I missed you, too.’
It feels like everyone always says long distance doesn’t work. Even Margie had her doubts about our arrangement—but here we are, together, almost a year later. Who knows what the future holds for us. Travel, definitely. Hopefully more grand slam wins. I plan to be courtside as much as possible. Maybe eventually we’ll get married, have kids.
His pinkie finger reaches out to snag mine. ‘So, have your affections for me waned?’
‘Hmm, good use of the word “waned”.’ I loop my fingers to interlock with his and bring his hand up to my mouth, pressing a kiss onto the smooth skin on the back of his hand. ‘Never. Yours?’
He laughs, and the little crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes wrinkle. ‘Not at all.’
I pick up my beer and clink the rim against his Coke. ‘Well, then, happy anniversary, baby.’
