She hates that they're dancing around the elephant in the room, the file in her bag. They both know it's there. They both know they've got to act like it's not in order to live, but until they deal with it, they'll always wonder. The kiss stretches on, until she shifts back enough that her forehead can press against his.

"We should get it over with," she says lowly, her hand moving to find his, to smooth over his knuckles with her thumb. "It's not going to disappear. I wish it would, but you know it's not."