Her right hand in his, she placed her left over them both and studied the misshapen mess that was the the side of her hand. It still made her want to scream when she looked at the mottled scar tissue where her missing finger belonged. Sometimes she felt phantom pains as if experiencing that whole ordeal all over again. Pippa still couldn't abide the sound of scissors or shears of any kind opening and closing--the whisper of metal on metal made her nauseous.

She closed her eyes. Getting sick now was not what she, or he, needed. That was not where she wanted to start. There was something far more important she had to share with him.

"I'm so sorry, Rory, for what I did. How I did it. I don't know that I could have done anything else, but I am sorry."