“My advice, Cherry, is this: tell him. Tell him everything you can. A man like that has to know his woman’s pain.” “Why?” I croaked, embarrassment heating my cheeks and tears stinging my eyes. His features softened. “He’s gotta know, Cherry.” The tears began to fall, and I tore my eyes from him, my fingers squeezing my metal bottle. “If I tell him…he wouldn’t look at me the same.” “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve never met the man in person, but I could tell by his voice—that man loves you. Nothing will change that.” “You don’t know that,” I snapped, looking back at him.
