Up on the wall over the bed was our wedding photo, all vintage-style. There we were, snuggled up close, million-dollar smiles.

When Richard sat on the bed, I tried pulling away again. He just held on tighter, frowning. "Papers aren't even final and you can't even patch me up?"

"...I'll grab the first-aid kit. Can't exactly fix you up with nothing." I gave in with a sigh.

Finally, he let my hand go. "Go ahead."

Found the kit in the drawer, ...