"I think that was only because she expected me to be gone soon," I pointed out, my smile briefly regretful. Lifting my wine glass to my lips, I set a hand on his knee, squeezing it gently.

"Both of us do," I said, gently clinking my glass against his. I knew it wouldn't take away the hurt he felt, or the horror of what we'd gone through, but it was good to remind ourselves of it, as often as we could.