Far from banishing the shadow between them, the dread swells as Curtis whispers, "Okay."

But that fluttery, frightened anxiety isn't there anymore. His emotions sink into a heavy tread, like a man about to face a war he has no chance of winning. It must be done. It's going to be awful, it might ruin everything, but if he doesn't do this, it'll definitely destroy everything they've made.

He has no idea how he's going to sleep tonight. Or if he's going to be able to keep Edgar off his back once the kid picks up on his nerves -- assuming he goes back to their room later.

Curtis holds on to her, to the thread of hope and warmth that curls around them both, and adds a barely audible, "Thank you."