“Can we just enjoy the hell out of tonight? And worry about the rest tomorrow?” And when he says this, the feeling that fills me is equal parts love, gratitude, and mourning. Because Henry has always given me exactly what I’ve wanted, plus what I’ve needed. From that first night when he dropped the conversation and played card games, to each time he’s said what I’ve needed to hear without expectation, to the space he’s allowed for us to become friends—even after I drunkenly dry humped him in a pond. Here he is, even now, giving me this night, despite our earlier conversation, despite the fact
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