He jogged along beside her, his breath forming great clouds in front of him, but he’d barely said two words since they’d entered the trail. “Alright, Rafa, something’s wrong. Talk to me.” “I’m fine. Not even a twinge.” His strides were long and steady, his shoe and his blade alternately crunching on the frosty gravel. It was the furrows on his forehead and the tension in his arms that bothered her. “I don’t mean your knee. Are you worried about the wedding?” “Huh?” “We need to work out a date and decide who to invite and work on colors.” He was watching her out of the corner of his eye, but his expression was one of surprise. So the wedding wasn’t the problem. That was a relief. At least one of them still had the brain capacity to think about something else. “Rafa...” “I’m still here.”
