❝ –– perhaps it’s true that things can change in a day. and when they do, those few dozen hours, like the salvaged remains of a burned house—the charred clock, the singed photograph, the scorched furniture—must be resurrected from the ruins and examined. and suddenly, they become the bleached bones of a story.
lips turn up into a small smile as slender fingers maneuver his wife’s hair into elaborate braids. “you know that sister I told you about? well she’s got a daughter who loves her uncle henry– but the one thing uncle henry couldn’t do was braid hair… and my little monkey loved her hair braided, so I took the time to learn how to do almost any type of braid…” he admits as he finishes her hair. “it’s a hidden talent of mine.”
“You never told me you had a niece,” Teddy said softly, thoughtful but never accusing. “How come I’ve never had a chance to meet her?” In that moment, Teddy was struck by just how little she knew of Henry’s past—as if in all their haste to get married, they’d missed so many crucial pieces of their hearts. “I guess I haven’t had the chance to meet any of your family yet, either.”
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