“Love me!” he whispered. I pressed myself against him, held him close. “I do, I do,” I whispered back. And it was true: as true as I could make it. I did love him, I did. But only down to a certain point. Beyond that point, something opaque in me, there was no give. I could see the opacity. I could taste it and touch it. Between me and my feeling for Stefan, perhaps for any man, I wasn’t sure, there fell a kind of transparent membrane through which I could whisper “I do” and make the whisper heard but not felt. Nettie hovered in the air. Her image was quick to the touch, warm and alive. I was
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