She laughs, but it’s more of a giggle, airy and disbelieving. “Is it weird if I tell you that this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me?” I eye her carefully. It bugs me that no one has ever done something this simple for her. And I don’t need a bunch of accolades for it, so I deflect. “Yes. Because raccoons are the official animal of romance. Nothing says I’m into you like sharing rabies over a bowl of Doritos.”
