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1 | Age 10
She’s ten the first time Conrad helps her make a bed.
Well, make is a generous word. But it is an attempt.
It happens at the end of summer. And with the end of summer comes her mom’s notorious cleaning day.
Belly hates it.
The last thing she wants to do on her final day at her favorite place is scrub away the proof of yet another amazing and magical summer.
The sticky residue at the end of the kitchen counter from when her and Conrad spilled while making Kool-Aid. Steven cleans it up.
The pebbles they had set into piles, one for each of them, that they used to keep score of who’d won the most swim races. Laurel makes them throw them back on the beach.
The smiley faces and words her and the boys had written on the bathroom mirror, only becoming visible after a shower. It’s their secret way to communicate. Jeremiah wipes it clean.
She wants to cry at that one.
All these perfect days, perfect moments, reduced to nothing but a collection of memories she’ll forever cherish.
Usually, Laurel assigns them the same jobs every year. She’s a control freak that way. She has her system, and she sticks to it.
And it works. Belly hates it, but it works.
But this year, Laurel introduces a new task to them – making the beds.
“You’re all more than old enough to help make the beds now,” she says. “Beck and I will do our rooms and Belly’s. The four of you can tackle the boy’s room.”
Belly has to stop herself from groaning. The boy’s room consists of a twin bed and a set of bunk beds – not ideal for bed-making.
“But Mom, the bunk beds are so hard to make!” Steven complains, voicing what she and most likely Conrad and Jeremiah are all thinking.
Laurel only shrugs, a gleam in her eyes, daring any of them to argue further with her. “There’s four of you. You’ll be fine.”
And then she hands a laundry basket full of sheets to Conrad and leaves them to it.
It’s silent for a split second before Jeremiah yells, “I call the twin bed!”
“And I call the bottom bunk!” Steven immediately follows up with.
The two laugh and high-five each other before running up the stairs to their room.
“Hey, no fair!” Belly calls after them. “Those are the easiest ones!”
“Sucks for you,” Steven says, barely even glancing over his shoulder.
Belly lets out a frustrated sigh, turning to Conrad. “Why do we even wash the sheets today? We still sleep in them one last time. It’s stupid.”
Conrad shoots her a small smirk, ignoring her complaints as he nudges her with his hip, laundry basket still in his hands. “It’s okay, Bells. I’ll help you with the top bunk.”
She grins up at him and suddenly, everything really is okay.
Things are not going well.
Jeremiah and Steven are long gone, the beds they’d staked their claim over taking only ten minutes to finish.
Belly and Conrad are a good twenty minutes in. They’ve only just gotten through the fitted sheet.
And normally she would care, would be upset about being the last one to finish something, but she’s having so much fun.
“Okay, maybe we should take a break from the sheets and do the pillowcases,” Conrad suggests, amusement ever-present in his eyes. He’s still slightly out of breath from lifting the mattress so Belly could fit the sheet over the corners.
Belly purses her lips to try and keep from giggling for the umpteenth time and nods.
It’s not usually like this, she thinks as he throws a pillow and its case her way. Chores aren’t supposed to be fun – they’re supposed to be, well, a chore.
She should have figured it would be different with Conrad.
Most things are.
She watches him as he stuffs the right corner of his pillow into the pillowcase, followed by the left, before shaking it the rest of the way in. She can’t help but smile when she catches sight of a thin bracelet wrapped around his left wrist.
Taylor and she became obsessed with making friendship bracelets over the last year, and Belly thought it would be a great idea to make one for each of the boys. She made Steven one that’s a candy stripe pattern, all different shades of green – his favorite color. For Jeremiah, she made a chevron pattern of yellow and orange, because he always seems to light up any room he walks into.
And for Conrad, well, his looks the plainest out of the three, but to her it’s the most special. She remembers Taylor called the pattern the Chinese staircase. It’s a simple pattern, with a spiral that looks like it goes on and on forever, the colors alternating between fire red and ocean blue. Belly has always associated Conrad with the color red. It’s the way he’s so quiet, like embers simmering in a fire pit, and then suddenly can command a room with a single sentence, the embers finally roaring to life, warming all of those in the vicinity. The blue represents her. Her love for swimming, the ocean. The way she’s always willing to just go with the flow when it comes to him.
(She doesn’t tell him all of this when she gives it to him. And she definitely doesn’t tell him that her favorite color is purple even though she’s sure he already knows that.)
Belly refocuses herself with the task at hand, copying the way he stuffed his pillowcase, although she’s not nearly as swift or graceful at it as he is. When she’s done she smiles up at him, proudly tossing the pillow back to him.
He just catches the pillow, chuckles and shakes his head.
“Belly! Conrad! Are you almost done up there?” Laurel calls from downstairs. “Lunch is almost ready.”
They exchange glances, eyes widening in fear for a split second before bursting into yet another fit of giggles.
Conrad is the first to find his voice. “Yeah, we’ll be down in a minute!”
“Conrad, we’re nowhere close to done!” Belly says, waving a hand in the general direction of the bed, like that will prove her point.
He shrugs. “It’s fine. Toss the sheets up and we’ll just make the comforter look extra nice on top.”
She does as he says and minutes later, the bunk looks…well…technically it has all the components of a made bed up there.
“It looks horrible.”
“It’ll be fine. Plus, Laurel can’t ever really get mad at me,” he smirks at her as he heads for the door.
“Speak for yourself,” Belly mumbles, turning to follow him.
It’s true, Laurel loves Conrad. No one quite gets him the way her mom does, she thinks. Kind of similar to what she has with Susannah. But she knows her mom, and she knows she’ll be the one getting the lecture later.
She doesn’t think Conrad hears her when she says it, but he does.
“It’ll be fine,” he repeats, turning back around to face her, blue eyes catching hers. “I promise.”
And because it’s Conrad, she believes him.
Fire red and ocean blue.
“Thank you kids for helping today,” Laurel says at dinner that night. “I know it’s tedious, but now everything’s all ready for next summer.”
Belly sneaks a quick glance at Susannah, who winks at her, and Belly fights back a grin. She’d caught Susannah on the phone after lunch scheduling housecleaners to come in after they all leave.
“Don’t tell your mom, okay, Belly?” she had said, and Belly only nodded, loving that she has this one little tidbit of information that no one else does.
She doesn’t hear what leads up to it, but Belly’s attention is immediately back on her mom when she says, “Especially the top bunk. It can be a tricky one.”
Huh?
“Oh, well, that was all Belly. She took the lead on that one,” Conrad replies.
Huh?
Belly turns to face him, silently asking what he’s going on about.
He just raises an eyebrow in return as if to say, “Are you really going to question it?”
And she’s pretty sure that Laurel doesn’t know whether to fully believe Conrad, but she lets it go, so Belly just smiles and doesn’t say a word.
Later that night, while the boys are still downstairs playing video games and Belly’s getting ready for bed, she peeks into the bunk room.
She takes in the freshly vacuumed floors and the boys’ suitcases packed and sitting in the corner, ready to go first thing in the morning. And then her eyes shift to the beds, still untouched from when they made them earlier that day. Her eyes gloss over the regular twin bed, then the bottom bunk, and then finally land on the top bunk, the nicest of them all.
Belly has to bite her lips to stop herself from grinning too big as the butterflies fly rampant in her stomach.
Conrad went back and remade the bed. And gave her all the credit!
Belly had realized earlier in the summer that she’s in love with Conrad. Which, to be fair, wasn’t that big of a realization. She’s loved him her whole life, so for her platonic love to evolve into romantic love, it was almost expected, if she’s being honest.
Her mom always tells her that she will love many different people in many different ways throughout her lifetime. But in this moment, Belly realizes that this is a different kind of love. Definitely more than just platonic, but also, she thinks, more than just romantic.
No, this…this is unconditional. This is a kind of love where as long as she’s alive, no matter what happens down the line, it will always linger somewhere deep in her heart.
2 | Age 16
“You gotta fold the bottom sheet at a forty-five degree angle if you want tight corners.”
Belly’s head briefly turns in acknowledgement in direction of the voice, although she doesn’t need to in order to figure out who’s there. She’s had his voice memorized for years now.
Her body does too, apparently, if the flip her stomach does is anything to go by.
She lets a small smile grace her lips as she turns her attention back to the bed, attempting to follow his directions.
“Yeah, not like that,” Conrad teases, which makes her let out a small laugh.
She stands up so she can fully face him this time, taking in the casual way he’s leaning against the side of the wall, arms crossed, one leg resting over the other, that familiar smirk playing at his lips.
He looks relaxed, she realizes. Something she hasn’t seen much of from him this summer.
Her heart starts to beat faster.
“Then help me,” she says to him, releasing her hold on the sheets in defeat. She walks to the end of the bed to let him take her place.
“You gotta pull this down,” he instructs, grabbing the sheet and tugging it down to smooth it over the mattress.
“Okay,” she moves to help him, and she can’t help but notice his left wrist only inches away from her own hand.
His bare left wrist.
Jeremiah lost the friendship bracelet Belly had made for him not long after. He says he took it off to go to a fancy event with Susannah and misplaced it.
Steven never even wore his, had acted like it was stupid and cheesy when Belly first gave it to him, but she knew he kept it safe in a box with a few other meaningful mementos from his childhood. (She found it one day while snooping in his room for a pair of scissors.)
But Conrad. Conrad never took his off, from the moment she handed it to him. She tied it on his wrist herself. She never saw him without it. Until now, that is. Until this summer.
She not sure when he decided to take it off, and she’s too much of a coward to ask him about it. All she knows is that when they pulled up to the beach house at the beginning of summer, all it took was a single glance down at his wrist to break her heart.
It’s stupid. She knows. No bracelet should hold that kind of power over her. But at the same time, it was always more than just a bracelet to her. She had hoped it was always that to Conrad as well.
Turns out she was wrong.
Conrad clears his throat, grounding Belly back into reality. “Like this, come here.”
Right. Sheets. Corners. Forty-five degree angles.
She scoots over and angles herself to where she can see what he’s doing, but if she’s being honest, she’s not paying attention in the slightest.
All she can think of is how close they are, how domestic this all feels.
Is this what it would be like? If they were older? Her and Conrad together?
She’s been fighting it as much as possible this summer, trying to find real, viable options in boys like Cam, but at the end of the day, this is all she wants. All she’s ever wanted.
Belly fights the urge to move that stray lock of hair of his that always seems to fall into his eyes.
God, he’s beautiful.
His eyes snap to hers. “See?”
She’s always loved his eyes. So blue and vibrant, even this summer when he’s not fully himself, when he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world, they still manage to take her breath away.
Belly nods weakly, letting out a shaky chuckle. “Thank you.”
He smiles back at her, and suddenly it’s too much.
“Don’t you think it’s weird that my dad is staying here with Victoria?”
If Conrad’s surprised by her abrupt change in subject, he doesn’t show it.
“Well, I’m sure they’re not gonna have loud sex,” he deadpans, smoothing out the bedsheets with his hands a bit more.
Belly stares at him in disbelief until he finally cracks a smile.
“That’s foul,” she scoffs. “And why is my mom letting him bring his bitchy girlfriend anyway-”
“Hey,” he scolds her halfheartedly. “How do you know she’s bitchy? What if she’s, like, a really nice person or something?”
She raises a playful eyebrow. “Uh, what if, and-and like, just hear me out – she’s a bitch.”
The two burst into fits of laughter and Belly has to shield herself from a pillow Conrad throws her way.
It’s nice, she thinks. Nice to see him laughing again. This feels more like the Conrad she knows. And she loves that she’s the one to bring it out of him.
“It’s gonna be fine, okay?” he reassures her after their laughter dies down. “Don’t worry about it.”
There’s a lull in the conversation, and even though his guard’s not completely down, he looks more vulnerable than usual. Belly wonders just how far she can push him to open up.
God, there’s so much she wants to ask him. About the infinity necklace she found, about why he’s distancing himself so much from everyone. About why he’s so hot and cold with her. She doesn’t know where to even start.
“I’m sorry your dad’s not coming,” she says, testing the waters a bit.
He looks at her. “Don’t be. I’m not.” He says it casually but sincerely, and Belly takes that as a good sign.
She opens her mouth to press him further on it, but then she hears her mom calling her from downstairs.
She locks eyes with Conrad once more, his still guarded and beautiful, but there’s a playful undertone to them now.
“The bitch is here,” he whispers to her.
Any trace of a smile that was lingering on her lips disappear with those words.
Conrad must sense her trepidation, because suddenly he’s standing and looking down at her, offering his hand. She takes it, reeling at the feeling of his calloused fingers, courtesy of his guitar, gliding across her palm and the back of her own hand, and stands.
Maybe it’s just her hoping imagination, but she thinks he hesitates to release her once she’s fully upright.
“It’ll be fine,” he repeats. “I promise.”
She’s heard him say that to her before. He wasn’t wrong then. Why would he be wrong now?
She believes him.
She feels like she’s ten years old again.
3 | Age 18
“I need you.”
Conrad chokes on his spoonful of cereal, milk sputtering down his chin and onto his shirt.
Belly winces. Yeah, she probably could have worded that better.
“Sorry. To help me make a bed,” she elaborates. “For Taylor. When she comes into town. For the wedding.”
She needs to stop talking.
“You just startled me is all,” Conrad tells her quietly, grabbing a paper towel to wipe the mess Belly had inadvertently caused before picking up his breakfast again. “Where’s Jere? He should probably be the one to help you.” He doesn’t look up from his cereal.
“Can’t find him.”
Lie. She didn’t even look for him.
“Plus, Jere can’t make a nice bed to save his life, and Taylor’s a bit of a neat freak when it comes to beds.”
That part’s true.
“And…you could possibly, maybe do that tight corners thing that you do?” she smiles sheepishly.
Conrad raises an amused eyebrow, finally looking at her. “I taught that to you years ago, Belly. And I learned that from Laurel. How has she not drilled it into your brain?”
Belly just shrugs. “I never really paid attention.”
He stares at her intently, his cereal long forgotten. “What about when I taught you?”
She swallows as she feels heat rise through her chest and to her face and all she can do is pray that Conrad doesn’t notice. (He does. He notices everything.) “I forgot,” she says weakly. Unconvincingly.
She can’t look away from him. He has her locked in a trance.
Fire red and ocean blue.
There’s a thought that hasn’t plagued her mind in years.
As if he finally realizes what he’s doing, he suddenly blinks and looks away, releasing her from his hold.
“Fine,” he relents, not quite meeting her eyes again. “I’ll help you.”
“Thank you.” Her smile is shaky. “I’ll get the sheets and meet you up there.”
She hesitates a moment at the doorway, bedding in hand as she peers into the guest room, taking in Conrad’s figure perched on the end of the unmade bed, scrolling on his phone. The last time she was in here with him was when she was sixteen, on that infamous fourth of July.
She remembers how nervous she was about meeting her dad’s newest girlfriend and how she tried to cover it up with humor, but Conrad saw through her.
It’ll be fine. I promise.
He was right, in the end. It was an eventful day, but Victoria had been nice, even if she didn’t last long after that, and for as much drama as Belly had caused that day, the night ended on a pretty high note.
But she also remembers all the things Conrad had been holding in that summer, refusing to let anyone else carry the burden of knowledge that had been unwillingly bestowed upon him. She was so confused at the time, wondering why he hadn’t been acting like himself.
Looking back on it, she realizes that he had.
Because it was just like Conrad take on everything by himself. He’s always been the leader of the four kids. And that’s what leaders do, right? They protect. They sacrifice. He tried to shield the rest of them from the reality of Susannah’s condition for as long as possible. Tried to guard Jere from who their father really is (was? He’s certainly been better as of late, even if not Dad of the Year.)
Sure, it may have changed him on the outside. He’s remained quieter, harder, and more brooding throughout the years, less likely to open up unless Laurel gives him a much needed wake up call, but his core self has never changed.
(After that summer, while they were together, Belly remembers how he would sometimes hold her as she mourned Susannah and her eventual fate. She always felt a bit guilty for being so upset when Susannah’s actual flesh and blood was right next to her. She thought it should have been her comforting him. But Conrad would just sit with her, arms wrapped protectively around her body, and he never said anything to make her feel worse. He knew how heartbreaking this was for both of their families.
He never promised her it would be fine, though. He never lied about that. Ever.
Part of her wonders whether or not he’d say those words to her today.)
Belly sighs, pushing the memories back into the secret chamber of her heart she rarely lets herself open and walks into the room.
Conrad looks up at her, not saying a word as he slides his phone into his pocket and stands to grab the fitted sheet from the bundle of bedding in Belly’s arms.
She’s once again reminded, no matter how unwelcome it is, of the stark contrast between the Fisher brothers.
Jere would tell her that Taylor can either deal with a messy bed or make it herself when she arrives. Then Belly would be left to do it on her own. She does think he would help her eventually, but he’d complain about it the entire time.
Conrad…Conrad understands how important it is to her to be a good host, even if it is just Taylor (something Laurel drilled into Belly that did get through). He makes fun of her for her lack of ability to make those stupid tight corners, sure, but he doesn’t complain about doing the work. He just does it because he knows what it means to her.
A sudden rush of guilt overwhelms her.
What is she thinking??
She’s going to be married to Jere by the end of this summer. She can’t keep doing this – comparing him to Conrad. She knows it’s his biggest insecurity, the thought of always playing second fiddle to his older brother, and she can’t be a part of that.
She just can’t.
“You’re pretty quiet,” Conrad muses. “What’re you thinking about?”
Belly sighs and glances down at her engagement ring for a split second. She doesn’t mean to, she does it unintentionally and probably a bit out of the guilt now plaguing her, but that’s all Conrad needs to see to just know.
He lets out a small “hmm” and Belly opens her mouth to speak even though she has no idea what to actually say, but Conrad just purses his lips into a small, slightly bitter smile and she knows there’s nothing she can say.
She has a sudden, overwhelming urge to go find Jeremiah, to let him hold her until she no longer feels conflicted, no longer feels the ache in her heart and the regret that eats away at her every time she’s alone with Conrad.
They finish making the bed in complete silence, and the moment they finish Belly makes a beeline for the door with no intention of stopping until she finds her fiancé.
“Bells,” Conrad says, and Belly can’t help but stop in her tracks, shivering at the nickname he hasn’t used in years.
Fire red and ocean blue.
It’s silent for a moment, Belly hanging on every weighted unsaid word between them.
“Jere, uh. I saw him head down to the beach earlier.”
She’s simultaneously relieved and disappointed at his words. Like she said. He just knows.
Her voice is heavy and thick with emotion as she struggles to get words out. “Thanks.” Her back is still facing him, but she peeks over her shoulder to acknowledge him without having to look him in the eyes. “For helping with the bed, too.”
She’s out the door immediately after that.
She thinks she hears him say, “Always, Bells.”
She also thinks it’s just her hoping.
+1 | Age 23
The credits for Titanic start to roll and Belly instantly groans, sinking even further into her husband’s side. She can feel his gaze on her.
“It’s time,” he says playfully.
“Don’t make me get up, it’s too comfy here.”
Conrad chuckles. “Bells, we had a deal. One movie, and then we make the bed. You even picked the longest movie on the planet, so really I should be the one complaining.”
She glances up at him from where she’s tucked herself under his arm. “That’s a bit of an exaggeration, I think. Plus, you love Titanic. Don’t deny it.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else, which makes Belly grin.
“Told ya,” she says, leaning up just enough to press a quick peck to his lips. She feels him lean down to chase her mouth for more, but she pulls away teasingly. “I thought we have a bed to make?”
Conrad groans, flopping back on the couch for a moment before popping to his feet. “Alright, let’s go then.”
It’s Belly’s turn to groan this time. She was hoping to distract him enough to where he’d forget about their deal.
“Can’t you just do it? You’re better at it anyways. Really, you’d be doing both of us a favor.”
But Conrad’s shaking his head before she’s even done with her sentence. “Nope, by the time we’re old and grey, you will be a master at those tight corners.”
“Ugh, fine,” Belly relents, holding out both hands for him to pull her off the couch. “You know, this should be considered spousal labor.”
He raises an eyebrow at her. “Okay, one, that’s not at all what that means, and two, I make the bed, like, nine times out of ten in this relationship.”
Belly gasps, pretending to be offended. “That’s so not true. It’s more like seven…or eight.”
They both laugh as they make their way to their bedroom, Belly careful to not trip over a pile of boxes in the hallway.
It’s their first night in their new house, and even though their initial plan was to get as much unpacking done as possible, they only made it through their living room and about half of their kitchen before they settled in on the couch for a ten-minute break…and then never got up.
Logically, she knows they need to make the bed, but she’s tired and just wants to spend the rest of the night doing nothing except lose herself in the feeling of Conrad’s embrace.
But they do make the bed, tight corners, throw pillows and everything. And when they’re done, Conrad sits on the end, grabbing at Belly’s waist to pull her between his legs. “See, that wasn’t too bad.”
“I guess not,” Belly shrugs, one hand on his shoulder, the other running through his hair, caressing the back of his head. “I guess I just don’t see the point, since we’re just going to mess it up later.”
She feels Conrad stop in his tracks for a moment, and then suddenly Belly is landing softly on their newly made bed, Conrad hovering over her. She can’t help but smile at the sight.
This man is hers. All hers. Finally.
“Now how exactly are we gonna do that?” he asks, mouth hovering impossibly close to her ear, but not quite touching.
Belly pretends to think for a moment. “Ah, well, I’ll just have to show you, I guess,” she says before guiding his mouth to hers in a searing kiss.
“I told you so,” she says later, when they’re both sweaty and spent and satisfied.
Conrad chuckles. “Alright, well, that is one thing that I’m happy for you to be right about.”
He kisses the side of her head, his left arm wrapped around her, and Belly absentmindedly grabs at it and seeks out his hand – specifically his ring finger. She feels the cool silver metal of his wedding ring and she smiles.
It’s not that she can’t believe she’s actually married to Conrad Fisher – she knows her self-worth and knows how much he loves her. It’s more so that she loves the physical reminder that, despite all trials and trepidations, they made it. They overcame obstacles she never dreamed they would have to, and it was all – he was all – worth it.
Her infinity necklace weighs heavily on its permanent spot on her neck, and she slowly traces up his arm and over her chest until she reaches it. After she returned from her study abroad in Spain and he was waiting at the airport for her, arms wide open and necklace in hand, she’s never taken it off. It's much more worn now – not nearly as shiny as it was all those years ago when she found it in his drawer, but she likes it better this way. It shows their history.
She feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and in an overwhelming rush of fondness and love, she says to him, “Thank you.”
He must hear the emotion in her words, because she feels him shift so he can get a better look at her. “For what?” he asks, and she thinks it may be the most tender she’s ever heard him.
She looks up at him finally, meeting those beautiful blue eyes that have captivated her since she was a little girl. She’s still fiddling with her necklace, and his eyes flit to it briefly before meeting hers once more.
“For giving me infinity.”
A wave of understanding washes over his face and he swallows, his eyebrows furrowing as he tries to hold back his own emotions. “No, Bells. I should be thanking you.”
Belly frowns. “What do you mean?”
He bites his lip, as if contemplating his next move, before he untangles himself from her and climbs out of their bed.
“Stay right there.”
In any other circumstance, she probably would make a joke, tell him she isn’t planning on going anywhere or something, but this moment feels too heavy for something like that. Too significant.
She watches as Conrad rifles through a box in the corner of their room. She remembers that box, remembers watching him pack a few things into it, but she didn’t think anything of it at the time. They were literally packing up everything they owned.
He finally finds what he’s looking for, tucking a small object into his hand before joining her on their bed once more.
Belly stares at him, curious and eager.
“You always tell me that I gave you infinity,” he says, and Belly nods, smiling. “Well, you gave it to me first.”
And then he opens his hand, revealing something Belly was sure she was never going to see again.
A friendship bracelet. A simple pattern, with a spiral that looks like it goes on forever and ever. It’s slightly dirtier than she remembers and the ends are frayed and there’s a bit of pilling throughout it, but the colors are still as clear as ever.
Fire red and ocean blue.
“Con,” she gasps, sitting up. “You kept this?”
He shoots her a small smile. “Of course I kept it. It means the world to me, Bells.”
She shakes her head, trying to find the right words. “I just assumed, that first summer I saw you without it, that you just got tired of wearing it and threw it away.”
“No, never,” he assures her. “I took it off because my girlfriend at the time, Aubrey, kept asking me about it. I didn’t know what to say, it felt too personal and too meaningful to tell her the truth, so I just took it off so she’d stop bugging me.”
“And after that? Why did you never put it back on?”
Conrad sighs. “I don’t know. When we were together that first time…I was trying to avoid any sort of conversation that would bring up even the slightest bit of emotion, I didn’t want any of my energy to go into anything other than my mom, and then after that came Jere and I just…”
He trails off, but Belly understands.
She smiles softly, delicately taking the bracelet from him.
“Well, you’re never taking it off again, that’s for sure.”
He smiles back at her, holding his left wrist out, finally ready to return the bracelet to where it belongs.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”