He was scared. Not that he would ever admit to that part, but he really was afraid he would say or do something to send her scurrying even farther away from him. His uncertainty and fear left him with only one reply: “Hi.” It wasn’t Shakespeare, but it was a start. “You’re looking well.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes in her very Tionne-like way. “Please, I just woke up. ‘Well’ is the last thing I look.” True, in her present form, the cover she would grace would be a catalog for a mattress company, but she did look truly rested, as well as inviting. An invitation he could not accept, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t admire her beauty. “Then we’ll just have to agree to disagree, because, as always, I think you look beautiful.” “Trying to sweet talk your way back into my good graces?” “I wasn’t aware I needed to. Are you still so very angry with me, moja draga?” “No,” she said gently. “Not even a little.” His face softened, and the tension he hadn’t even been aware of eased from his shoulders, freeing him at last.
