“Let’s see whose makes it home first,” Phillip says as we walk out of the lobby. I nudge his shoulder with mine. “You just have to make everything into a contest, don’t you?” “It’s what makes life interesting,” he says. But then, he puts an arm around my waist and pulls me into his side, pressing a kiss to my temple. “But I like it best when we’re both winning.” I smile against his shoulder. Public displays of affection? This is dangerous for my overworked heart, but I lean into him because I know it’s too late regardless. It’ll hurt when this ends.
