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I rise from the sofa, collecting the empty containers and stacking them neatly inside the basket before setting it aside. Then I walk toward her.

She looks immediately. “Roman…”

“What?”

“You can't see it.”

“That’s an interesting thing to say to someone who merely wants to appreciate his wife’s artwork.”

“It isn’t finished.”

“I’m sure it’s good enough.”

“It really isn’t.”

I stop in front of her and hold out my hand. “The sketch.”

She hugs it protectively against her chest. “No.”

I chuckle. “Now you’re making me more curious. Just a peek.”

I reach for it. She squeals and twists away, clutching the pad tighter. “Roman!”

“Aurora.”

She laughs, a bright, breathless sound, as she tries to dodge me again.

I catch the edge of the sketchpad just as she pulls it away. With one swift tug, I pull the sketchbook free. I open it. Silence stretches between us.

Then I look from the page to her, back to the page, then to her again. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Her cheeks immediately flush a deep pink. “Give it back.”

A slow smile pulls at my mouth. She’s been sketching me the entire time. Sitting here eating, complete with an exaggerated scowl on my face.

I stare at it for another second. Then another. A laugh escapes me before I can stop it. A full unrestrained laugh. It tears out of my chest so suddenly that it surprises even me.

Aurora blinks. I don’t think she’s ever heard me laugh before. Hell, I’m not sure I’ve heard myself laugh like this in years.

She buries her face in her hands. “I was just fooling around.”

“No.” I lift the sketch higher, studying the details. “This isn’t fooling around.”

I trace one finger just above the page, careful not to smudge the graphite. “You’re actually very good.”

She peeks through her fingers. “You don’t have to flatter me.”

“I’m not.”

My eyes drift over the tiny details I’d never have noticed myself. Somehow she’s managed to capture not only what I look like, but the mood I carried into the room.

“You made me look insufferable.”

“I captured what I saw.”

“So you’re saying I always look this grumpy?”

“You said it, not me.”