Noah’s mouth trembled.
“He looks tired.”
“I have always looked tired.”
“He looks heartbroken.”
“He has practice surviving that too.”
Noah closed the distance and put his arms around me.
I held him.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you.”
“You make every terrible thing sound possible.”
“Not easy.”
“No.”
“Possible.”
He nodded against my neck.
The following morning, he carried the newspaper downstairs and placed it in the office safe.
Not with the ring.
In the file drawer beneath it.
He did not want to destroy the article.
He did not want to read it again.
Both choices were allowed.
Chapter 32
REID
Noah woke Saturday determined to leave the apartment.
His determination survived breakfast, the first headache check, the weather forecast, and my reminder that the Harborside Tavern would be louder than any place he had visited since the accident.
“I know.”
“You were exhausted after Elias and Miriam’s.”
“I rested first.”
“That did not prevent an entire day on the couch.”
“I have scheduled a nap.”
“You cannot schedule sleep.”
