SEAN
When, late in the evening, I returned to the rooms I now shared with Caroline, I found her sitting on the sofa under the large window, looking at something beyond the glass. She was sober, and evidently upset.
By now, I'd learned to understand what that look meant.
She did not speak when I approached her, or when I sat behind her, hugging her and resting my chin on her head. She barely sighed, intertwining her fingers between mine. That contact, that sudden openness of hers, was unusual ... but also unexpectedly familiar.
Nothing felt more right.
"Malcolm, huh?" I murmured. It had been enough for me to see that despondency in her eyes to realize that the alcohol and blood from earlier hadn't come from her getting drunk and possibly fighting to forget what I'd told her. No, Ma
