“What happened here?” His fingers tap at the side of his neck. “Where did your birthmark go?” “My—” Oh. I gather my hair to the side, revealing the hidden spot. “I covered it with concealer. It’s not very pretty, so . . .” “That’s not true,” he responds almost instinctively. “I mean, it’s—it’s a part of you, and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it.” He settles back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other. “Don’t cover it from now on.”
