Arianne and Mark both broke into giggles. The two took each others’ hands and descended the stairs back to their lunch.
Feeling his hand in hers filled Arianne with an immense sense of security and a desire to bind her fingers with his forever, never to part. She loved the smell emanating from him. She loved the warmth spreading into her hand from his palm. She loved how his warmest, gentlest, and kindest self was always only reserved for her.
She loved everything about him, the good, the bad, the whole.
After their meal, the family relaxed in their yard, though Mark was busy making calls. Judging from the content of his conversations, Arianne judged that they were all work-related.
A part of her watched Smore as he played with his slide, but most of her attention was on Mark. Ever since his return, Arianne realized that her eyes would always drift to his visage given any chance. His gestures, motions, all of his expressions, they never ceased to enthrall her. It was as though there was a sempiternal quality to him that forbade Arianne from ever getting bored of watching him.
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