“Didn’t expect to start crying like that. Sorry.” “To be fair, I think I cry more. But, forgiven.” She tries a smile. “Do you actually think we can do this, Darrow?” Her eyes are red, the mascara she wore for the wedding stained by the tears. Her running nose is a ruddy pink, but I’ve never seen beauty as deep as hers is now. All the rawness of life flows through her. All the cracks and fears that make her who she is worn in her eyes. So imperfect and rough that I want to hold her and love her as long as I can. And for once, she lets me.
