Worry breeds worry. He said it to her quietly, as he traced the side of her face with his finger. She nodded. I'm sorry. She sighed. I'll work on it. I already am. He kissed her forehead. Okay.
And she felt better. Not because anything had changed, really. But because nothing had changed. That was what she'd worried about, what she always worried about. And what she was going to stop worrying about.
Soon they would both bear the fruit of her confidence.
But there was one thing she hoped still: that he would feed some of it back to her. Because while confidence can breed confidence all by itself, sometimes it likes the company.
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