Michael
I wake to find Charlotte’s face pushed against my chest. Her breathing wheezes a little from having her nose pressed hard into my flesh. It’s not the world’s romantic sound, but I couldn’t care less.
Her red hair is a tumble of copper over her pale skin. Her green eyes… well, they are closed now and a part of me longs for them to open….
…. but another part revels in the moment, knowing that she has given herself to me…
….. to us….
One hand rests under her cheek, supporting her head against the pillow. The other lies outside the blankets and rests on my hips in an almost-embrace.
And on that hand are displayed the two rings of twisted gold, lying so closely together that, to the unknowing eye, they would appear as one. One is of strands of white and yellow gold. One of red and yellow…