“You love me?” I know I sound incredulous, and Bailey’s face dims slightly—not what I wanted. At all. “I know it’s soon, and we still barely know each other but—” “I wasn’t aware love had a strict timeline,” I say. “Or that you had to exchange social security numbers or something before you could say it. Because I don’t know everything about you, and I don’t know your social security number, but I love you, Bailey Hopkins.”
