“I was six when I fell in love with you, everyone knows that, I bang on about it all the time”—I shrug—“but no one bangs on about the math of it,” I tell her, and her face falters a bit. “That’s twenty-one years of loving you.” I nod. “252 months, 1,095 weeks, 7,665 days, 183,960 hours and 11,037,600 minutes where I have loved you and if that can translate into anything, please let it speak to the depth of my commitment to you, Parks, because it’s yours.”
