“I’m a practical one,” he replied. “I want to see you happy. But I also want to be able to walk the next day. Those are my two non-negotiables.”
“I make a decent cobbler,” she said. “But I’m not making it for a stranger. You’d have to come over and help. And you’d have to bring the bourbon.” sexi mature
She stared at him. A younger man would have argued. A lesser man would have sulked. Paul had offered a compromise so generous it sounded like a poem. “I’m a practical one,” he replied
“You said you can’t fly. That’s the same thing.” Those are my two non-negotiables
He looked up. He had a kind, weathered face—sixty-two, she guessed, maybe sixty-four. His hands were those of a retired carpenter or a lifelong guitarist: knotted knuckles, clean nails.
“I was thinking about Linda,” he said after a while. “About the last year. How hard it was.”