She said that she loved him too, and Hemingway smiled fondly as he realised she'd heard his thanks exactly as he'd meant it. He was beyond grateful to her, for everything she had done for him and continued to do. Without her, he knew he'd be a drunken mess. Alone. With a gun. It wasn't pretty.
But, there was no need to dwell on all that. His life was different here. It was better, it was so much better, and she was helping him be the best man that he was capable of being.
"Yeah. Let me make this more kid friendly again," he told her. He got up and took the whiskey bottle, moving to put it high up out of reach of curious little hands. Then the gun was opened up and double-checked that it was definitely unloaded, before it was locked into a case that was locked up in a cabinet. The two keys then went to sit in two separate locations. He was an idiot about a lot of things, but as much as he put himself at risk, he wouldn't do the same to his family.