I were getting married in a slaughterhouse,” she allowed. “Ah, well. I did not like this one very much as it was. Much too gaudy.” “I thought you looked beautiful.” His voice was soft. Tessa laid her head against his shoulder. “There will be another time,” she said. “Another day, another dress. A time when you are well and everything is perfect.” His voice was still gentle, but it held a terrible weariness. “There is no such thing as perfect, Tessa.”
This is foreboding
