Savor it, Irene told herself, it's unlikely something like that would ever happen again.
But she had gotten him to smile before. Even in bad situations, she had elicited laughs from him. Each time he wore a sad expression—the same way he was when he admitted that her silence was tearing him apart—she felt unbelievably burdened to fix it. To be responsible for his smile was so much more satisfying than being responsible for his sadness.
And he had confessed that she was the cause of it this time, so she decided to hug him and hope that the smile returned or the sadness, at least, disappeared.
However, Irene's quick thinking led her to believe this was the wrong decision, and she almost escaped, but then she felt his arms go around her and his chin rest comfortably on the top of her head as if the two of them were a perfect fit together. She was tall for a woman, but he was still a head taller.
