“How about we finish listening to that movie we started the other day?” I suggest. “You mean that romcom book?” “Yeah.” I chuckle, kissing the tip of his nose just because I can. “Are you…living one of my romance novels vicariously through me?” he asks, playfully, but I sense it’s a veil for more of his doubts. “Maybe that’s what you’re doing to me,” I tease in return. “No, Riley,” he whispers. “Nobody could write you.”
