Joy doesn’t mean to whisper, but it feels right to do it while sitting so close. “What are you going to draw?”

He whispers back. “Let me surprise you.”

“Okay.” Her smile grows shyer with anticipation. “It better be good, or else. This is my first temporary tattoo after all. No ragrets.”

“You’re in good hands.” He lifts his gaze from her arm to her face, expression soft. Still no smile, though. “Keep talking to me like this. It’s good.”

“What do you mean?”

The first stroke of the pen tickles her skin. “They’re too far away to hear us. They have to go by what they see, and right now, I’m sure we look very cozy together.”

“I do feel cozy, yeah.” For a moment she watches him work, creating large, curved lines and loops, gracefully arcing across the length of her forearm. “What should we talk about?”

“Whatever you want.”

“What does your ring say?”

Fox inhales sharply. His frown is quick and doesn’t last. “It’s a reminder.”

“You don’t have to tell me. Forget I asked.”

“It’s fine. My best friend died a few years ago. My ring reminds me of a promise I made to him before he was buried.”

Oh. Excellent work, Joy. Simply fantastic. Now that she’s opened the door, it’d be rude not to honor his honesty with sincerity. “Do you miss him?”

“Every day. But he’d be mad at me for being sad that he’s not here anymore, so I don’t let myself be.”

Joy considers him carefully, gaze searching his side profile. His answer was unexpected to say the least. It’s not that she doesn’t believe him, but is it possible to have such a command over something as wildly unpredictable as mourning? He spoke with such assuredness, she almost believes it is. “I didn’t know grief worked like that.”

“It’s mine,” he answers, glancing at her quickly. “I can do whatever I want with it.”

“That you can.” Quiet settles between them. Joy laughs, gently and embarrassed, to ease the awkwardness. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say now.”

“You can say whatever you want. By the way, don’t look. Malcolm’s watching.”

Joy reflexively tenses up. Saying “don’t look” makes her want to do the exact opposite. “Maybe I should laugh and say ‘ahahaha, Fox, you’re so funny’ or something?”

Fox gives her a curious look, shaking his head. “Definitely not. Just be natural. You’re doing fine.”

“Natural, yeah. Okay.”

“The trick is to let their brains do the work for us. Nothing you’d say would ever be better than what he makes up for you.”

His gaze flicks upward to the kitchen and back down to her arm in the span of a second. “They’re both watching now. It’s working. All we have to do is keep up appearances.”