"You'll be okay," Richie said, parroting her words but emphasizing it childishly, like maybe that would have it make sense or maybe even be funny.
He doubted, sometimes, that it would be okay. But there were other things that were. He had her, Stan, Eddie. He was gonna fuckin' get married about it and some days were so, so good that he could tolerate that sometimes that the nights got low. He could deal. And he would deal. Even if his initial intentions had been to do it alone, there was something good about the fact that Beverly was more than willing to just help, but take the sort of initiative that Richie never would have had on his own.
So. That was something.
"Hey," he said, rubbing his nose in her hair because it was soft. So soft. "Let's have a nap."