"I know here," she says wryly, tapping her temple, "that it's true. And I know here," putting her hand over her heart, before letting it rest over her stomach. "It's here that worries and twists and always has."

She shrugs, a little, and looks up through the green toward the sky above.

"I love him. I know he loves me. But--but there's always the wonder. Do you see? If she's right and I'm not enough, and what if his wife was. Not because it's true or likely. Just because...it's there, anyway. Fear rarely stopped me, but it's still there. And--and if it were true, if he deserved someone better really truly, I'd want him to find her. I don't really think it's true. But it doesn't make me feel better," looking down again, "or stop wondering a little. Or stop feeling like I'm loving someone else's husband," with a quiet laugh, "even if he's to be mine soon, too."