"He thinks I'm very amusing," he admitted, with a bit of a smile. His demands were often met with fits of giggles, as if asking him to get into bed was a wonderful punchline.
Hemingway squeezed onto her hand a little, and he couldn't help the rather intense look he was giving her. He could see now how different she had been in the future. It was so obvious. This Abi was light, unburdened by the weight of his problems. He didn't want to see her like that again.