She had turned to watch him while he closed the door.

"Almost four years now." Is murmured as her arm slip around his neck in a way that leaves her nails just where the hair ends on it. She knows it was probably a rhetorical question, but there's an answer anyway.

She leaned forward, almost pressed against him, "I do, and I'm very grateful you trust me that much." Her nails are just sharp enough to tease the back of his neck.