“Hayes, I love you. You know that,” he starts, his tone low and gentle. “But if we’re gonna be living together until the ripe old age of ninety-eight, I’m really gonna need you to stop interrupting me when I talk. Because you do it constantly.” Relief spreads through my body, and I start laughing, loud and free and with more happiness than I could’ve ever imagined. “You know I love you too,” I tell him, a playful lilt in my tone. “But I told you the day you asked for a fair catch, that was my hard limit. It’s not my fault you weren’t listening.”
