“Okay,” I huskily reply and lick my lips. She watches the movement and before she asks because I know she will, I say, “The Aquaphor is in my pocket.” And pat my right pocket. Her eyes train down but because it’s kind of dark in here, she can’t see it, so I grab her hand and press her palm to it. “I always carry it with me. No more chapped lips.” She chuckles, lifting her gaze, but keeping her hand in place. “Good…because you know how I feel about chapped lips.” “I do. So don’t worry, they’ll be soft only for you.”
