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Summary
“I almost,” he stuttered, “I forgot— I keep thinking you are her. I— I’m sorry.” He folded his arm across his midsection, stumbled a couple of paces, leaned against the car’s trunk. She thought, for a wild moment, he might cry.
“You loved her,” Natasha said wonderingly. She had been envisioning— she didn’t know what she had been envisioning— but this, it clearly went beyond that, for him.
His shoulders shook— both of them— and then he went still. After a long moment he breathed in, then out. Finally he looked back at her, face blank. “How could I not?” he asked.
It was such a perfectly astonishing answer that she stared at him without speaking until he turned away and walked into the rest stop.Series
- Part 1 of Now And At The Hour Of Our Death