"Look," she said softly, "Nothing's going to change until he realises and if he's anything like you, he's a stubborn man who has to go through something radical before he changes his mind. Either you wait or you confront him. Either way, I'd dump the ammo from the gun..."
Abi didn't particularly like how he was speaking about himself so derogatorily, as if it was his fault for expecting more than Jack could willingly give. She missed the arrogance of Hemingway sometimes though she knew he had to learn how to balance the guilty feelings with the egotism a bit better than he had in the past. She knew she wasn't by any means perfect either, though, and often wondered if she had any place to even talk about his son. It was a tightrope line to walk.
But then he kissed her, teased her with the fake out and her worry melted away. Smacking his arm lightly, she leant back and simply smiled. "You utter ass..." Abi muttered. She recorked the bottle and put it on his writing desk, next to his typewriter. "You're lucky I still let you have whiskey in here, what with Charlie getting in everything."