Murphy bit down while he was ahead, afraid that he might say something else that he'll only regret later. Finally, he let his hands slip from his face, wiping away some stray tears that had followed his awakening. His chest hurt more than his head, and he was torn as to why. He should be happy, but somehow waking up and going to sleep just hurt more.

At first he wasn't going to say anything, until he looked down at Anne withdrawing. Murphy had forgotten how exhausting anger was, and how he wasn't the only one who let it wore them down. He saw the chips around her rough edges start to come off and it pained him to see that he was a part of that.

Still silent, he lowered himself back down beside her as she apologized, returning the closeness that she had pushed away. Reluctantly, he drew his arm over her shoulder, reaching for her hand while pulling her close to his chest.

Eventually he turned to her ear, murmuring into it: "I'm sorry, too." His voice cracked. "I'm really..."

I should be happy, he kept telling himself. Here it felt like he had the best of both worlds.

Then why did he feel so sad? Because he was still remembering his son's laughter and thinking of Anne's smile, and he felt torn between the two memories and didn't want to lose either.