“Put them on me. Like you did before.”
She hadn’t meant to say I feel like a ghost in my own house . But she had. And Mark hadn’t denied it. He’d just looked at her with that new, tired expression—the one that said here we go again —and walked away. Cold Feet
They sat with that for a moment. The wind picked up, rattled the bare branches of the oak tree. Emma shivered. “Put them on me
“I keep them in my nightstand,” he said, not looking at her. “I don’t know why. I just… I couldn’t throw them away.” And Mark hadn’t denied it
When he finished, he didn’t let go. He held her ankles, his head bowed, and she saw his shoulders shake once, twice.
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.