“Are you ready for tomorrow?” I’m reminded of Kitt’s same question at the previous ball as I say, “Are you?” He exhales slowly. “I have to be.” There’s a long pause. The smile I give him is sad. “That’s not what I asked.” “Smart-ass,” he mutters under his breath, managing to truly make me smile. “The truth then?” “The truth always.” “Then no. I’m not ready,” he sighs, ducking his head close to mine. “But we’ll be fine. We always are.”
