He nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted, as if the weight of his memories were a physical thing. When he put the book on the shelf to rub at his forehead, his hands shook, just slightly.
There was more, of course. About Mary, and Preston, and the manner of his death. But the prospect of telling her that--particularly that last--seemed too much right now. "There's more," he said, his eyes closed. "I hope you'll understand if I need a little time before going into the rest."
He tried out a reassuring smile at Beauty, though the effect was somewhat weak and sick looking. "This time I promise not to let it be a mystery for years. I just need some time to gather my thoughts."