She smiles conspiratorially and reaches into her nightstand. “I have something for you.” she says, pulling open the drawer and taking out a little black box. She jumps back into bed, her legs tucked underneath her, and hands it to me. “Go on. Open it.”
“Are you proposing to me? Because we’ve been there and done that. Twice, actually.”
“Just open it, smart ass,” she says impatiently.
I open the lid and see a sleek, silver dog tag sitting on a velvet cushion. It matches Maksim’s, except this engraving reads, “Kiska.” There’s a small infinity symbol etched underneath it.
“You had this done for me?”
She smiles and nods. “You don’t have to wear it all the time. Or at all, really. There’s no pressure. I just thought you could wear it sometimes. Mix it up a little, you know?”
I lift it out
