"You don't practice hand-to-hand combat every day, so unless that was the last thing you did today, it is a flimsy excuse. Have you worn it at all since I gave it to you?" The cat was out of the bag now, temper rising, because obviously she was right and he was wrong. That's how it always seemed to go.

If she wasn't going to wear it, what was the fucking point of giving it to her? That's what he'd like to know, but he would never loose those words into the air. He didn't regret proposing to her, he loved her, he really did, but damn did she make it difficult sometimes.