She took the ring off. It was a girlish thing to do, maybe, but somehow it touched some part of him that felt dead and buried.
There were other girls, but none that he'd kept coming back to, for fights or sex or ... anything, the way he had with her.
That meant something, he just wasn't sure what.
Their fingers were interlaced and he sat on the edge of a sofa, pleased irrefutably that his arse was where Mummy Greengrass probably rested her hand.
"Two. I love dancing with you too."
He wasn't certain if she moved or if he tugged her closer, but she was pressed up against his knees, and his free hand was laced through her hair as he pulled her down to kiss her.
A questioning kiss, needing, wanting, seeking... something.