vehement

8

     I look over at him. "Really?"

     "Yeah. If you don't want to it's fine—"

     "No. No, I'd love to!" I exclaim. "I've never been to a boxing match before. What are you supposed to wear?"

     His lips slowly tilt up, amusement taking over his features. "Whatever you want."

     "Okay." I bite my bottom lip nervously. "I'll ask my dad to take care of Enzo. I can ask if he'll look after Alexandra too, if you want."

     "Sure, that would be great." He says.

     "Okay." I repeat. "You can go back upstairs. I can take over."

     Enzo yawns. "LEGO." He whispers.

     Archer grins.

     "You don't mind playing LEGO's with him again, do you?" I ask Archer nervously. I don't want him to feel like he has to.

     "Of course not." He says. I lean over and pass him to Archer, and he sends me a reassuring smile before walking upstairs with him. I sit in the chair behind the front desk and go on my phone to message my dad.

     ME: Hi dad.

     He answers within two minutes.

     DAD: Hi sweetheart. You okay?

     ME: Yeah. Would you be able to come round later and take care of Enzo and Ally? Archer has this boxing match thing and he asked me if I'd like to go. It's okay if not.

     DAD: Yeah, sure.

     ME: Thank you!

     DAD: It's okay. I'll see you later.

     ME: See you later :)) xx

•

A few hours later we're being picked up in a black car. Archer opens the door for me, and I climb into one of the backseats. He gets in beside me, then closes the door.

     The car starts again, and we drive away from my flower shop. I turn to him nervously.

     "Am I overdressed?" I ask.

     "No, you're perfect." He says.

     I blush.

     "There's no point in me wearing nice clothes. I'll have to change out of them when we get there." He tells me, nodding to the bag on the floor.

     "Oh." I whisper. He leans back and exhales a steady breath. "Are you nervous?"

     "No." He replies quickly.

     "I am."

     He laughs.

     "What if you get hurt?" I ask him.

     "I'll be fine."

     "How do you know that?" I question.

     "Because I do. Don't worry."

     "Of course I'm going to worry. I'm your wife."

     He meets my eyes, and his smile widens a little. His eyes drop to the cheap wedding ring on my finger. "You still have it on."

     I look at his. "So do you."

     "Do you want me to say you're my wife? You know, when we get there?"