“This stuff, Mary.” He turned to face her. “All this information.”
Johnny did mean the stuff that he’d learned about himself, but he also meant the stuff he’d learned about him and Mary. Not that that would be clear to her, or to anybody else if they weren’t psychic and digging around in his head.
“Living with you, calling you my wife...” he gestured to his own head, twirling his fingers around. “I know you understand, I know that you do. Because of the way you’ve been. And really just because of who you are. I know you understand. That part of it.”
God, why couldn’t he say it? Why, after everything, was he getting caught up in this net, tripping over himself like an idiot?