“Wow,” I whisper and look into his warm eyes. The dark-blue is liquid, and a soft smile lurks at the corner of his lips. “I love you.” His hands pause. My words hang in the air between us, a tangible, shimmering thing. One that can be accepted or rejected. His mouth tightens. “You do?” “Yes,” I say. My hair must be a mess, and I’m half-naked, and I feel more like myself than I have in a long, long time. “It’s okay if you’re not there, yet, or if you don’t want to say it. But I want you to know how I feel.” “Really?” he asks. “Yes, so much, I don’t know what to do with it all. It’s taken me by
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