“I don’t know, Joey.” “Then let me be very clear about it,” he replied, reaching up to cup the side of my face. “It’s you, Molloy.” He tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “It’s you.” “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” “It’s you,” he repeated gruffly, fingers tightening on my waist. “I pick you. Every single time.” “I mean it,” I warned, shaking my head. “I’m a big girl and I knew what I was getting myself into when I kissed you that day outside your house. You have this warped notion that you need to shield me from your life when nothing about your life has come as a surprise to
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