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"Are we in a cold war fight?" Rafe asked me quickly, and quietly. I scrunched up my lips. Were we? Maybe. I had stopped walking and leaned against the car, squinting up at the afternoon sun. "A cold war fight?" I repeated, and let my eyes slide down to meet his. "Cold war--- a standoff?" "A standoff?" I tapped my fingers on the hood of his car and watched as his eyes narrowed. He'd expected refutation--- reassurance. "Do you doubt my commitment to our marriage?" My eyes widened. "No. Absolutely not. I don't doubt you at all, Rafe." And I didn't---- I couldn't. Rafe was amazing, and perfect and ---- stubborn and bull-headed. Would our differences ever be resolved? Could they be? Would they tear up the fragile love we'd built, and the sweet growing we experienced with each other? Was there even a chance, these issues could tear us apart?
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