“You’re like a dog,” she said.

Daniel kicked his leg out behind him and stuck out his tongue, panting. Lynell hit his shoulder, yelling “Stop!” through her laughter. He did and reached back to shove the near full Scrabble board off the bed to join the covers and sheets that had long ago been discarded on the floor.

Daniel leaned on his forearms, placed on either side of Lynell’s head. His hair fell in curls around his face as he stared down at her, his entire face smiling. Lips, eyes, even his ears seemed to be filled with the joy and love found in that smile. Even several months into their relationship, Lynell couldn’t get enough of him. Of his smile or his blue eyes that were darker on the edges and grew cooler and lighter as they reached his pupils.

Lynell reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet her in a kiss.

“Have I told you today how lucky I am to be in love with you?” Daniel said, words brushing her lips.

“In every way imaginable,” Lynell replied.

“Good.” He kissed her again. “Because you deserve to hear that.” His long, dark lashes fluttered closed and grazed her cheeks as he moved his lips along her skin.

“I love you,” Lynell said. She brushed a thumb over his lower lip, red and swollen. Her hands roamed, as if of their own accord, over his broad shoulders and down his arms that were mapped with rippling muscles and prominent veins. Her hands made their way to his wrists, which she grabbed before leaning up to kiss him again. He moved one hand to tangle in her hair.

Day two of marriage with the greatest man to ever live. Lynell’s heart swelled, threatening to swallow her whole and erase every negative memory and emotion she’d ever had.

She knew with every fiber of her being that she loved Daniel Carter more than she should be allowed to love anyone or anything, and she never wanted to know a life without him again.

The lack of movement wakes Lynell up. She squeezes her eyes tight, desperately trying to hold onto the dream. When the last strand of memory floats away, she allows her eyes to open, and reality returns.

She turns to see Daniel sprawled out next to her on the bed, on top of the sheets. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, hugging the pillow close to his face, mouth slightly open. He seems peaceful and relaxed, a jarring contrast to the tension and anger oozing from his every fiber last night.

Remorse tugs at Lynell’s heart. If she’d never tried to Register Alan, she wouldn’t have been there when Price was. She wouldn’t have heard him Register her. She wouldn’t have run.

Or she still would have. Because Daniel would have found her.

But if she hadn’t heard Price, then Daniel wouldn’t have found out that she hadn’t yet used her Registration. And last night wouldn’t have happened.