She marvelled at how his kiss seemed to linger on her skin more than before and wondered why that had been. Abi didn't believe in true love or soulmates or fate but she did believe that Hemingway was perfect for her and she was good for him in return.
Wordlessly, she scrubbed all over his back with the soap, working out the tensions left on Hemingway's shoulders. It was therapeutic to her to melt away his aches in a more literal way. Her lips descended on the top of his shoulders, the water hiding the tears on her porcelain skin.