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"How much time left?" he asked her, his stern face graver than usual.
"Weeks, at the outside," she replied, equally solemn.
He reached for her hand. "Do you have any regrets?"
Laura laughed bitterly. "About six pounds’ worth. Little late to do anything about it now, though."
Bill cracked a smile as he reached into his pocket for the last-minute airline tickets and French Quarter hotel reservations, and pulled her into his lap to show her.
"You’ll get your crawfish boil before the season ends after all," he whispered against her hair, as all traces of frustration left her body.