He reaches up to cup her cheek, swiping away the patchy tearstains with his thumb. She's the most beautiful woman in the world, and crying doesn't do a thing to change that. Especially not when she's looking at him like he hung the moon.

He's missed this. Selfish bastard that he is, he'd do anything to hang onto this feeling, the sensation that she wants to be here with him. It's all he can do to keep from leaning in and pecking her on the mouth.

"All in a day's work." He wants to take her outside, show her the garden and the sunset, convince her of the beauty of this little house in its big old lot, but he knows it needs work. Mowing, weeding, neatening the place up - maybe some of that could happen tomorrow. Tonight, they should stay in. "C'mon, let's move over to the couch. We'll watch whatever you want."