That is a rare kind of love, the kind that thinks past its own longing to protect the person it loves from disappointment.

I had married him for many reasons, most of them shallower than I would like to admit.

That afternoon I understood, for the first time, the actual size of the man I had married — and I understood that his soup kitchen, which I had mocked over coffee, had not been a whim at all.

It had been exactly who he was, and I had been too busy being comfortable to see it.

Chapter 10 — What the Doctor Said