Somehow I had managed to trick myself into believing that that would be all there was. All that she would expect. All that I wanted. That we weren’t on the verge of something I couldn’t control. Couldn’t handle.
He looks at her then, really looks at her, and she knows he is seeing all the cracks in her, all the places she is broken and doesn’t quite fit together anymore, all the things she tries to hide . . . Funny how, now that she starts to see them, the cracks in him look a lot like the cracks in her.
They’ve both been through so much. The question is, will it bring them together or irrevocably push them apart?