“You got the short end of the stick as you were growing up, but you didn’t let that stop you. You weren’t bitter about it or trodden down. And I remember thinking how strong you were when I met you.” He leaned in and brushed my lips with his. "It's the same now. If I were you, I would be so angry. But you're smiling and beautiful and happy about the snow..." He broke off and shook his head.

I threaded my fingers with his, not needing him to say another word. I knew what he was trying to say, and it meant the world to me that he felt...