That little tuck at the corner of his mouth tugs at her heart in a way that's probably going to be painful, for a little while, before it starts just being a partial ache. She might not be in love with him the way Doris assumed she was, but that doesn't mean she never was, or that she doesn't care, or won't miss waking up to his sleepy smile and warm arms.
But it's just a little pinprick, really, and nothing to the relief that allows her to lift her hand, a half-smile of her own pulling at her mouth, eyes warming. "I'm pretty sure he was surprised, too."
To see her, definitely. But he'd walked in without knocking, like he owned the place, like he was expected, and that same look had been mirrored on his face. The one with the switch. Eyes going directly to Steve. She, and the rest of the house, a complete afterthought.
A traumatic one, sure. But an afterthought none the less.
She wonders if she'd notice anything different in him, if she saw him and Steve together now. If it's written right across his face the way it's emblazoned now across Steve's, no matter how tense he might still be. It's there, softening his eyes, lending a more relaxed edge to his mouth, less steel in his shoulders.
It's a good look, and she finds herself wanting to see more of it.
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That little tuck at the corner of his mouth tugs at her heart in a way that's probably going to be painful, for a little while, before it starts just being a partial ache. She might not be in love with him the way Doris assumed she was, but that doesn't mean she never was, or that she doesn't care, or won't miss waking up to his sleepy smile and warm arms.
But it's just a little pinprick, really, and nothing to the relief that allows her to lift her hand, a half-smile of her own pulling at her mouth, eyes warming. "I'm pretty sure he was surprised, too."
To see her, definitely. But he'd walked in without knocking, like he owned the place, like he was expected, and that same look had been mirrored on his face. The one with the switch. Eyes going directly to Steve. She, and the rest of the house, a complete afterthought.
A traumatic one, sure. But an afterthought none the less.
She wonders if she'd notice anything different in him, if she saw him and Steve together now. If it's written right across his face the way it's emblazoned now across Steve's, no matter how tense he might still be. It's there, softening his eyes, lending a more relaxed edge to his mouth, less steel in his shoulders.
It's a good look, and she finds herself wanting to see more of it.