She stays beside me for longer than I expected. Minutes passing before she heaves a long sigh, and I stop the swing with one of my feet on the ground. I stand first—hoping that being the one to initiate her exit will help ease the pain of her leaving but knowing it won’t—and offer her my hand. She takes it, allowing me to help her up but stopping short when I try to pull her into me. One of her hands lands on my chest, her palm right over my broken heart. She tilts her head back, glistening amber eyes melting just a little at the sight of my desperation. “Stay.” “You’re a glutton for
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