Heavy sigh. “You’re thinking spontaneous combustion or death by random chicken attack, aren’t you? That sort of thing?”
“Something like that. Though it would take a lot of chickens.” I frowned. “Of course we’ll die tragically, each reaching for the other.”
“Right.”
“While getting pecked to death.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Well, I don’t know about it being a good time. But it would certainly be dramatic.”
With a line between his brows, he shook his head. “Think we’ve had enough drama.”
I just smiled. For a while we sat in silence.
“I love you, you know?” he said.
I smiled. “I know. I love you too.”
“And it doesn’t end, Edie,” he answered eventually. “It keeps going. If we want it to.”
“I want it to.”
He nodded like it was decided.
Because it was.