“What are you doing?” “Going to go make dinner. Come with me?” I raise a mystified eyebrow at him. “Sure?” He sends me a little smile that I return and doesn’t drop my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. What world am I living in, that now I’m holding hands with Nicholas to walk from one room into another? His grasp is confident and sure, the sort you’d want leading you through a crowd. “You’re a pretty good hand-holder, you know,” I tell him.
