“I think there are words—” I couldn’t decide how to rationally say, Vivienne, I need to tell you I love you. I want you. I have never not loved or wanted you. I thought I would give you what you thought was best for you, but it was not what was best. I am best for you. We are best together. Every day since we met, I have seen you in my mind in innumerable sweet ways—in my arms, beneath my lips, your fingers in my hair, your palms on my wounds, your belly swollen— “There are always words.” She twisted the ring on her finger, her shoulders tensing almost to her ears.
