The Knot of Marriage
His other hand moved away, just long enough to shrug off his coat and wrap it around my waist.
"Where was the guy with you earlier?" he suddenly asked, eyes fixed on the knot he was making.
I blinked. "Guy? Who?"
He paused for a beat. Something shifted in his expression.
"The one... never mind," he muttered, brushing it off.
I was about to utter a question again when he suddenly lifted me in a bridal style. Instinctively, I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck. It felt like déjà vu.
"Next time, don’t drink too much if you can’t handle your liquor, hm?" Rome chided as we exited the place, but I was too distracted—buried in the scent of his neck—to really hear a word he was saying.
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