"I know," he murmured in response to her comforting, knowing very well she wasn't to blame for any of this. Though his memories of their elopement were a hazy, they weren't missing. He remembered suggesting they marry on the spot, and he remembered saying "I do" in front of the officiator. Being married to her wasn't even a bad thing; it only meant they'd have to brainstorm answers to complicated questions and get their life in order—soon.

"Hopefully you won't have to get too comfortable. I'll begin looking for the perfect cottage for us—and in the meantime, I'm sure we could rent a place that's more..." He glanced around his bedroom. It wasn't small, but it was the only part of the house that was truly his. This was not a place Febby could truly be the mistress of. "... private," he finally said, shooting a half-smile in her direction.

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