He watches me carefully, and I wait as he struggles to find his words. “Could I take your name?” he finally asks. His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat with a heavy swallow. “When we get married, I mean. Could I—could I be a Porter?” I have to take a second to breathe through the pinch in my chest. “Is that something you want?” He nods. I feel myself smile. “I’m pretty sure you’ve been an honorary Porter for a couple of years now.” “Yeah.” He tucks some of my hair behind my ears, hands framing my cheeks. The look on his face is so tender, it makes me want to cry. His thumb rubs right beneath my
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