“I know.”
They stood up together. Mark’s hand found hers—not the ring hand, the other one, the one that had been hanging empty at her side. Their fingers laced together, hesitant at first, then tighter. Cold Feet
They sat with that for a moment. The wind picked up, rattled the bare branches of the oak tree. Emma shivered. “I know
When did we stop taking pictures of each other? They sat with that for a moment
She remembered the night he’d proposed. December, snow falling thick and silent, the two of them ice skating on the frozen pond behind his parents’ farm. He’d pretended to fall, pulled her down with him, and when she’d laughed and pushed at his shoulder, he’d held up the ring—already on his pinky because his fingers were too cold to work the box.