“Den—” “You eat red meat?” I asked, unwrapping a steak. “Yes,” she answered. “But you don’t have to—” “Gonna make steak sandwiches. You good with that?” She didn’t answer. Instead, she moved closer, not stopping until she was beside me, in my space. “Will you look at me?” she asked, her voice shaking. I did. Fuck me, I did.
