“And I was thinking Ronan?” Henry’s hands stop his ministrations as he glares at me. “That’s a joke, right?” “Maybe?” I bite my bottom lip. “Would it be that bad, though? He is one of my best friends. And he helped save your life.” Henry’s jaw clenches as if he doesn’t want to be reminded of that. “I trust him like no one else. Except you, of course.” Henry sighs with exasperation, the pressure returning to my feet with renewed force. “Only if he wears the picnic tablecloth.”
