"It was the only thing I could think of right after. What you'd say if I could tell you."

And for a time she'd had hope of being able to tell him. When they'd found him dead to all appearances, she'd had to let the fantasy go, and try to face a future where all William would ever have were stories, newspaper clippings, the echo of his mother's loneliness.

She scoots closer again, wanting to be near him, to lean her head on his shoulder.

"Worrying that I'd wasted my last chances to tell you what you mean to me."