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What I don’t realize is that I’ll be fighting the urge to stare at Jasper Gervais for years to come.
But salivating over Jasper Gervais is part of my personality at this point.
“You always look good to me. Concealer, no concealer. Fancy dress, Harvey’s sweat suit. Smooth hair”—his hand waves over me with a low chuckle—“whatever this is. It doesn’t matter. You’re you.” I swallow and try my best not to melt onto the floor into a squishy pile of mush. “That’s probably what you tell all the girls, Gervais.” “Nah, Sunny. You’re my only girl.”
I’m grumpy and miserable. The world is dark, but she’s like the moon when we sat on the roof. Bright and pure, shedding a silvery light over everything so that I can still see where I’m going.
Know that Grandpa Harvey will love the baby, tail and all.”
Rhett chuckles. “Well, I’ll be. You’re like that store with the skimpy dresses. Forever 22.” “Yeah. You’re definitely getting old. That store is called Forever 21.”
“No, Sunny. I shouldn’t be scared. You’re the least scary thing in my life. You’re not just tattooed on my skin. You’re branded on my heart. Woven into the fiber of my being. The most constant and reassuring person in my life.
