“We don’t choose who we love, Deanna. You are beautiful to me. Perfect to me. Despite what you struggle with. Your struggle…” His eyes leave me for a moment, searching for words; then they come back to me, wisps of smoke leaving his mouth in the chilled night air. “Your struggle is part of what makes you beautiful. You don’t see what I see. You don’t see the good person that I know that you are.” He runs a hand up my back, tugs firmly on my hair. “Don’t argue with me. I know how I feel. I just wanted you to know. I’ve been holding it in too long. I love you.”
