She sat beside him while he thrilled his rapt audience with his stories. They laughed at all the right parts and he enjoyed their adulation. She talked with the people around her. Mixing with the crowd at certain parts of the evening, engaged in her phone at others. All those, always aware of where he was in the crowd. She could feel him, the awareness of his presence a joy in itself.

She wished they were home. She wanted him to herself. She didn’t want to share him. Her love, possessive, slightly obsessive, unnerved her. She’d never longed for anyone’s company as much as she craved his. Her thoughts had strayed from the person who was talking to her to him. Just as she was wondering where he was, she felt a strong, warm, hand on the small of her back a knew without turning to him. She made her excuses to the person talking and looked up into her love’s eyes. Home. Take me home. His eyes smiled into hers. They wouldn’t leave for another hour but she knew once they got home, he’d make it up to her.