It would take some time, but eventually they would both get to a place where they could get through a day together without one or both of them crying. It might take a lot of time, considering everything they'd both been through, but it would be worth the wait.
"That sounds beautiful," she told him, wearing a grin to match his. She had no idea what those flowers meant, but she looking forward to finding out. Stepping back and unwrapping herself from him, she wiped at her eyes again with a breathy laugh. "You haven't even gotten in the door yet," she realized aloud, reaching out to wrap her hand around his elbow and tug him inside. "Come on in, I need to put these in water."
Her apartment was small, just big enough for one person or two if they got really cozy, and the building definitely showed its age, but she'd done her best to make it nice. The furniture was all second-hand, from the worn grey couch in the living room in front of the windows to the scratched dining table set up in the corner, but there were bright yellow pillows on the couch and paler yellow curtains on the windows. Her kitchen was tiny, which was the one thing she had trouble coping with, but everything was perfectly clean and tidy. There were no photos of people around, no real personal touches other than the general decor, except for three large framed prints of the French Quarter in New Orleans, proudly mounted on the wall in the living room.
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"That sounds beautiful," she told him, wearing a grin to match his. She had no idea what those flowers meant, but she looking forward to finding out. Stepping back and unwrapping herself from him, she wiped at her eyes again with a breathy laugh. "You haven't even gotten in the door yet," she realized aloud, reaching out to wrap her hand around his elbow and tug him inside. "Come on in, I need to put these in water."
Her apartment was small, just big enough for one person or two if they got really cozy, and the building definitely showed its age, but she'd done her best to make it nice. The furniture was all second-hand, from the worn grey couch in the living room in front of the windows to the scratched dining table set up in the corner, but there were bright yellow pillows on the couch and paler yellow curtains on the windows. Her kitchen was tiny, which was the one thing she had trouble coping with, but everything was perfectly clean and tidy. There were no photos of people around, no real personal touches other than the general decor, except for three large framed prints of the French Quarter in New Orleans, proudly mounted on the wall in the living room.