“Here.” He places the black band in my palm, not wanting to slip a ring on my finger yet. “It’s perfect, wolf scout.” And with another growing smile, he adds, “Especially since you took forever to pick it out.” I grimace. “You can’t know that one-hundred percent,” I contend and slip the black band on my ring finger. “I do know that one-hundred percent,” Farrow says. “Because I know you one-hundred percent.”
