“I need to think,” she says. “Not about us, but about me. About the diner. I made my mom a promise that I would take care of it, and I can’t just . . . does that make sense?” I nod. “I’ll be ready when you are.” She presses her forehead to mine. “Thank you.” I kiss her again, hungry for more of her kisses after nearly two weeks of missing them. “Whatever you need to do, we can handle it. Together.”
