He pulled out the cuff link, studied the “K,” and offered it to her.
She exhaled. “Where?”
“Back porch.”
When she took it, he closed his hand around hers—her delicate palm, her piano fingers. She felt the caress of his thumb, the warm hunger of his calluses. Each hand—his and hers—held the promise of unlimited potential. Yet each clung to possibilities that would forever lay sleeping.
