“kenzie, I’m sorry,” he said, sighing, a slightly exasperated look on his face.

When he was met with silence, he sighed again, a little louder than before like the drama king he was. “Really? You wanna play it like that?” he continued, unamused. A beat of stillness. “Fine.”

You two had just argued over something so insignificant and petty that he couldn’t even remember what it was that pissed him off in the first place. Rafe wasn’t one to back down easily; but when it came to you, he’d do anything to ease the furrow in your brows.

And so the next thing you knew, his hands wrapped around your hips as he lifted you up and over his shoulder, his grip shifting to secure your legs. Only a fool would drop someone as precious as you.

He was taking you to your favourite restaurant, for starters. Then maybe a walk around the mainland, visit every store he’d lay eyes on, getting you anything you want and everything he deems worthy of your attention.

One shouldn’t mistake his spoiling habits as a superficial, half-assed apology—he did care about you and the connection you two had—because he was genuinely sorry. This was just the Plan B to his Plan A of apologizing verbally. Which, obviously, seemingly hadn’t worked.

He strode over to his car, which was parked by a curb where the argument had taken place, and gently let you down into the passenger seat. He then came around to the driver’s side, before starting up the vehicle and driving en route to your favorite restaurant.