A lump forms in her throat. For a widow whose husband never stayed with her for more than a few days, a man whose whole life revolved around dashing off on a mad caper every other day, a man who never had any intention of settling down and making a place together, those words strike deep and hard.

She never expected life after death to hold such a miracle as this man, here in her arms.

Her scent changes, subtly, desire and hope and something else, something powerful. She nods, shakily. "Come here to me," she whispers, pulling him back up to kiss his mouth, gentle and hungry, her hands trembling against his face.