Knowing of the spell he was casting on her, Abi broke it and forced herself to pull back. The way he had leant forwards so intent on actually listening to her - unlike her stubborn partner - like she knew everything. Of course she didn't, there were no clues in her head about how this version of him would be. It was a nice fantasy to think she could improve his young life. Instead she thought she'd be a ghost of a memory; a face long forgotten and dismissed a haze of painkillers and kind nurses in some army hospital in Italy.
"It's nothing more than a piece of paper to me, Hem, fake vows said in front of other people to prove things we already know to be true. I share my home, my life, my body, my bed with him. Why on earth would marriage make that any more real?" she said, though she thought she was fighting a losing battle. Even her Hemingway wasn't entirely convinced that she really didn't care about a ceremony.
What on earth was it about him that always made her spill her guts? Here this wind chafed girl was, vomiting her entire life up to a man who considered her a stranger. He must have thought her insane and now to add to it. "Are you sure you want to hear them? It might not be your life's trajectory but it might also be. You want your future shown to you like that?"