It was Tim's turn to make dinner--which almost always meant takeout. Tonight was Indian food--which Tim choose almost entirely because the place on the corner made the best kheer he'd ever had in his life. He carried the bags with him up the stairs to the apartment and let himself in
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Not that Tim could blame him much on that second part. Their first few months here had been an exercise in denial. Especially on his part. It had been Cissie who had insisted that they needed to start really living here, instead of drifting, looking for a way home.
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"I think you're right," she said, frowning. She focused on the first part of what Tim said. "I wish... I think there's more he's not talking about. That happened before he came here."
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