After dinner, he tidied up the kitchen and joined Leanne in the living room. She had a documentary queued up, and he wasn’t all that interested, but when she leaned against him, nudging him with her shoulder, he circled an arm around her. I missed this. It might not seem like a big deal to anyone else, but Sarah had been his first and only serious relationship. Before that, he’d been Party Trevor and paid way more attention to doing keg stands than his GPA. When he’d met Sarah, he’d tried his best to recover, but she’d graduated and he… Well, the less said about that the better. And once she’d left, it was years before he could even imagine himself with anyone else. Cliché but true: he’d fallen hard when it finally happened, and he’d landed in a deep, dark hole when it all went wrong.

But he’d missed being cozy with someone, feeling the slow, steady shift of their breath, their body nestled into his. Others might judge him for lacking drive, but this was basically what he wanted in life. To be needed by someone, to be the reason they were glad to get home at the end of the day. It wasn’t ambitious, and according to his dad, it wasn’t manly either. Probably, he should desire to make a lot of money, but he didn’t care about that and never had.

When the documentary about bees ended an hour and a half later, he said, “Damn. Now I know way more about this than I ever expected.”

“I find insects soothing,” she said in the tone of one making a confession.

Trev made a show of shuddering. “Really? I find them so creepy. I was going to bite the bullet, but if you’re not afraid, then you’re in charge of getting spiders out of the bathtub.”

“Not a problem.” She angled her body, propping a knee up as she leaned on her elbow resting on the back of the couch.

“You’re looking thoughtful,” Trev said, hoping the other shoe wasn’t about to drop.

Leanne smiled. “I suppose I am. The first time I asked you to be my third husband, I admit it was a line. We discussed the possibility briefly over lunch, and you moved in. We’ve been really solid as domestic partners, so I’m asking again, this time for real. How about it, hon? You and me. We can catch the next plane to Vegas.”

Is she seriously proposing?

He stared, unable to figure out how he should answer. “Are you sure about this?”

“Totally. We get along great, and I need to be in a stable relationship to do well in the polls against Dan Rutherford.”

Oh right. It’s all for show—a piece of paper that makes her more appealing to constituents.