Mandy lay in Neville's arms, one hand closed around a fold of his shirt, listening to his suggestion. He'd do that for her? Would she want him to?
"The whole point is that I don't want you to be something you're not. You're not a gardener, you're brilliant at what you do..." She wiped at her eyes, then lifted her head to look at him. "I love you, your magic and your thistles and the way you warm the bed before I get in. I want her to see you, not just the shape of you..." She sighed, letting her head drop to his shoulder.