“Thank you, Ashley,” he whispers. “No one has ever supported me like you do.”
I grunt and blink, my eyes suddenly itchy. I will always support you. AlwaysI vow the words in my head, unable to say them out loud.
He doesn’t let go right away. Instead, he tightens his grip and presses his front even closer to my back. He smells of hot chocolate and sleep, and I let my eyes drift closed.
He’s a very handsy guy, taking every opportunity to touch me. Brushes a shoulder against mine. A quick caress on my hand or my arm. A hug like this when he’s happy or thankful for something.
And he watches me a lot. Intently. His gaze is always warm and happy whenever he lets it linger on me. Sometimes, I think he likes me, but I manage to talk myself out of such delusions. He’s just grateful, that’s all.
After a final squeeze, he lets go and retakes his place across from me. “What about you. Are you happy with your life?”
“Mmm.” I nod.
“Nothing missing?”