Los Angeles, April 2022
Konnor wrapped his arm around the most beautiful shoulders in the world. He leaned into Marjorie and nuzzled her hair, inhaling the lush scent of herbs and wildflowers and nature. How she managed to smell like the Highlands after almost two years in L.A., he didn’t know.
Marjorie entwined her fingers with his, and he brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles. She smiled sweetly at him, her hand settling gently on her already large baby bump. The setting sun painted her face in a golden-orange glow. She didn’t tan well.