His mouth twitched.
“What’s in the thermos?”
“Corn chowder.”
“With bacon?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll tolerate the elderly outing.”
I sat opposite him.
“You slept well.”
“Did I?”
“You did.”
“No nightmares?”
“Not that I noticed.”
He frowned slightly, searching the blank place where sleep should have been.
“I dreamed something.”
“What?”
“Gone now.”
He ate a corner of toast.
“Did I talk?”
My hand tightened around my mug.
“Once.”
“What did I say?”
The question came casually.
I could have lied by omission. He would never know.
I had promised him truth.
“You answered me.”
He waited.
“I told you I loved you.”
His face became still.
“And?”
“You said it back.”
