My old wedding ring.
I stared.
“I thought that was in my jewelry box.”
“It was.”
“You entered my bedroom?”
“Emily got it.”
“Traitor.”
He smiled.
Then he placed the ring in my palm.
He did not kneel.
I was grateful.
“I’m not asking you to put it back on.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking whether you want to keep it.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because whatever happens next should belong to you.”
The old Michael would have asked for an answer.
The new Michael waited.
I closed my fingers around the ring.
Then I surprised both of us.
I slipped it onto my finger.
Michael’s eyes filled.
“This isn’t forgiveness for everything,” I warned.
“I know.”
“It doesn’t mean we go back.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
“It means we try.”
His voice broke.
“I’d like that.”
I smiled.
“So would I.”
Then he kissed me.
