I stand, my hand still lingering on her chair. The one with my wedding ring. Purely to keep everyone away from her. Not because she’s mine or anything. Not because I’m feeling toxically territorial—well, not too toxically territorial—but because she’s here to rest and relax and be on her own, not to be teased and flirted with by a bunch of good-looking, fit guys her age working on the house, calling her sunflower.
