Andrea stares down at the ring. The stone shines and twinkles, but Lance’s eyes are even brighter. He smiles softly and rolls the ring around his palm.
“Don’t say no to me again,” he whispers.
“This is where you’re proposing to me?” Andrea asks, stalling for time.
“What’s wrong with that?” Lance asks.
“It’s the hospital, Lance,” she says. “No one proposes in the hospital. Least of all when they’re too wounded to even get out of bed.”
“The place doesn’t matter—it’s the thought that counts,” Lance says with a smile.
“Stop joking about this,” Andrea says. “You just survived a bomb blast. And the doctor said your wounds need to be cleaned to avoid infection.”
She reaches for the bottle of disinfectant but Lance stops her and asks, “Why are you avoiding the question?”
“Why would I avoid
