Brina Starler

“In his mind's eye, he saw the terrible look on her face when she thought he was rejecting her earlier, and knew he had to say something honest. If he wanted this, wanted her, then he was going to have to go all in. Maybe she loved him, maybe she wasn't there yet. How she felt wasn't going to change what he did, and there was something freeing in that realization.
"Anne, I've wanted you since before I knew what it was to want someone," Gil said, leaning forward to catch her gaze with his own. "Even when the only time you ever looked at me was when we were fighting, all I could see was you. So, when you ask me if it's too late, believe me when I tell you that's not possible."
Her breath left her in a rush. "I really thought you might tell me to go."
The thing about Anne was this: Gil had loved her for so long, he thought he knew all of her expressions. The ones she wore when she was surprised, or angry, or had just won the regional spelling bee. There was nothing left for him to discover in her tired frown or the way she chewed the inside of her cheek when she was nervous. He knew what her face did when she looked at her first boyfriend or her best friend, or her family.
But this half smile, immeasurably soft and just a bit shaky, wasn't anything he'd seen before, and it fascinated him. He wanted to study it for hours.
If she left now, if Gil let her go again, he'd have to chase after her, broken leg or not. How many more second chances would the universe give him? It wasn't worth finding out.
"I want you to stay.”
― Brina Starler, Anne of Manhattan