“Beats the one I got.”
She’d done it again. Pulled him out from behind the lens with an intriguing statement. “Someone proposed to you?”
“Walt Phillips.” Her lip curled. “It wasn’t really a proposal. More of a statement. Like it was foregone we’d get married because we’d been dating since high school. How long have you and Kyla been together?”
Back to that again. “I don’t know.” He tapped the steering wheel with restless fingers. “I don’t pay attention to stuff like that.”
“You don’t celebrate anniversaries?”
“There’s more than one?”
“Anniversary of your first date, anniversary of your first kiss. The first time you made love, the first time you…” She trailed off as he raised an eyebrow. “What?”
Nobody kept track of those milestones. “Nothing. Are you sure you don’t want breakfast?”
“Are you sure you want to marry someone you aren’t in love with?”
The car veered toward the center line and he overcorrected, shooting the passenger-side tires past the white line of the shoulder, jouncing them both until he got the wheel under control. Precisely the reason he stayed behind the camera—so he couldn’t be caught off guard. “Seems like you’re the one practicing ESP. What makes you think I’m not in love with Kyla?”
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