[Patrick]
The relief was immense and the happiness that followed was overwhelming.
I gazed into the now-familiar pale gray eyes and the soft bouncing curls that hung below her shoulders.
I pushed back the urge to grab her and attack her sleepy face with kisses as I watched her get up and slide a shirt over her head.
I stretched myself, grunting as I climbed out of the super-queen-sized bed I slept in. We slept in.
[Angela]
It was a good 15 years ago. I was 6 years old, Patrick 7. I first saw him sitting on top of a small, pathetic run-down Ferris wheel with his dad. I could tell he was reluctant. His fingers gripped the Ferris wheel bar tightly, and his eyes stayed fixed to the ceiling of their box.
As I watched his father snapped at him and he slowly raised his binoculars to stare down, at my direction. I gulped and looked away quickly.
Still then, I couldn't block out his blue eyes, blonde curls and lopsided, easy grin.
