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"You were the first, the only, person I thought to ask."
A moment ticked by, then another. She didn't release his hand. Instead, she studied the back of it and traced the ropy veins with her fingertip. Then slowly she turned it over, raised it to her lips, and pressed a kiss into his palm. She held his hand against her mouth for a long time, then looked up at him with eyes he could drown in.
"All these years," she said huskily, "and you're still so familiar to me. I would know this hand out of every other hand in the world."
He just looked at her, not daring to move, or to believe that this was really happening.
"You've had a lot of women since me. Two wives. And many others."
He made a motion with his shoulder.
"Do you..."
"What?"
"Do you remember anything about me?"
Gruffly, he said, "Only everything."
She smiled with uncertainty and a trace of sadness. "I'm not young and lithe anymore."
He'd restrained himself for as long as he could, for as long as he was willing to. He pulled her up and clutched her to him. No hug had ever been tighter. He rubbed his face in her hair and poured out the words he thought he'd never have another chance to say.
"You're the only thing I ever loved. God knows." Placing his finger beneath her chin, he tilted her head up. "I made such a goddamn mess of it, Caroline, but I wanted you the minute I saw you, and that's never changed."
She lay across his chest, her cheek pressed against his heart, his chin propped on the top of her head. "You're quiet," she whispered.
"I'm old. You wore me out."
She nudged his crotch with her knee. "You're a stud."
"You think?"
She came up on her elbow to look into his face. "Um-hmm." He smiled, and she smiled back. She ran her finger across his chin, her eyes moving lovingly over his face. "Until tonight, you hadn't told me you were sorry. And, until now, I never thanked you."
"Thanked me?"
"For Berry."
His throat grew tight. He combed his fingers up through her hair. "Yeah, you have. Every time you look at her, I can see how much you love her. That's thanking me, Caroline."
They kissed. She was the first to pull back. "When are you going to tell me?"
He kept his expression blank. "Tell you what?"
"What's on your mind."
"On my mind? Right now, you. You naked. What a turn-on your freckles are. I'm especially fond of the ones on your tits."
She laughed but wasn't dissuaded by his joking. "You're not going to tell me?"
"Nothing to tell."
She searched his eyes for a moment, then murmured, "Okay," and returned her head to his chest. Except for a few whispered endearments, their conversation ended there. Occasionally Dodge would say something coarse that caused her to sigh, laugh, or blush. Or they used no words to express what they were feeling, and that was the most meaningful communication of all.
Finally she nuzzled his throat and mumbled sleepily, "I don't want this to end, but I can't hold my eyes open any longer."
He kissed her lips softly, then turned her away from him, pulling her hips up against his lap. "I know you like to spoon."
