She seemingly chokes on an inhale of air then shakes her head laughing. In our time apart, she’s been on three different domestic professional soccer teams. I may have been a shell of myself without her, but I’m so fucking proud of her. What she’s done in her career is remarkable and I want her to talk about it more.

“Hmm, kill Orlando. The only good thing to come out of that was meeting Angie. But that may have more to do with my mental state during those years than the team. Then, I guess fuck Cary and marry Portland. I know they’re my current team and I love North Carolina and I love my team, but Portland was something special. I really fucking loved it there. The team just wasn’t a fit for me, at all. So when the trade happened I accepted it. Angie getting traded there just confirmed it was meant to be.”

I figured this would be her answer. Since being back here, she hasn’t brought up Orlando once, and when she talks about her home in North Carolina, it’s mostly about her time with Angie and Justine. When she talks about Portland, though, it’s with reverence. That city held magic for her, and I’m genuinely happy she had that, even if only for a few years.

“I think you would love it there,” she adds.

“I’d love to go one day.” I hope she takes that exactly how I mean that; I would go anywhere with and for her.

“Okay, time to claim my prize.” She looks down at each item, wistfully tracing her hand along the top of every jar. She grabs the whipped cream and slowly pops the top off with her thumb. I watch as her gaze roams across my bare chest down to the navy blue pajama pants I have on and my bare feet before she shakes the can and squeezes a dab onto her finger. She leans forward just enough to wipe her finger across my cheek. My damn cheek. Her tongue is a faint whisper across my skin as she licks the cream off me.

I blow out a puff of air. That’s cute, but if she thinks I’m going to be so polite during my turn she’s in for a rude awakening.

She announces it’s her turn and then clasps her hands together and bites her lip in concentration. “Did you ever have any serious relationships after me?”

I chuckle at the question. I should’ve known she’d waste no time diving right in with the big ones. “No. I’ve gone on dates, had fuck buddies, been in brief relationships. But anything as serious as I was about you? Nah.”

She nods her understanding and then her head dips to the jars in front of us, probably trying to guess which one I’m going to pick.