The problem is, she doesn't know what her expectations are. She'd be lying if she said she'd had no hope at maybe winning him back by coming here, otherwise she wouldn't have come at all. She owed it to him to explain, not that she really has in full, though she doesn't know whether that's something she'll ever want to have to talk about. She owed it to him, but that was part of it, and the other part is bigger than that, an all encompassing emptiness that happened when she left him, that she's been trying to fill ever since and failing.

She knows something's coming when he runs his hands through his hair like he's always done when he's about to say or do something that's stressing him out. He'd done it before he'd proposed, and the thought guts her like a knife, remembering him on one knee with that stupid hopeful smile on his face. She has to stop thinking about it or she'll go crazy, imagining what she could have had. She wasn't betting on getting an 'I missed you' from him this soon, if ever, and maybe there's hope after all, though she's not about to start holding her breath. Still, it's nice to hear something other than small talk or anger. "I missed you too," she says quietly. "Always."

There's a moment of pause and she fiddles with her crappy plastic wine cup, almost empty. "I'd like that, too," she says in response, and glances back towards where Cooper is rolling around in the grass. "Maybe Cooper could... have a home with me?" It's an affirmation, a decision that she didn't think she was ready to make, but she's saying it before she can stop herself, and she realises that there was never really any debate anyway. So long as he's not putting her on a plane himself, she was always going to stay, because she can't bear to walk away again. It would kill her, and she's done punishing herself for the last four years.