“Tell me I’m wrong, Callum. I know it eats you up that you’ve been sleeping with me without being married to me.” “Why are you doing this?” His fists are clenched at his side. “Why haven’t you turned in that resignation letter?” I cry, pointing at the open laptop on his desk. “I told you—” “These things take time, I know. But I don’t think you want to resign, Callum. I think you’re torn. Torn by duty, torn because you don’t know who to follow anymore, God or me.” “Just because I’m torn doesn’t mean…” “I don’t want to tear you away anymore.”
by all means, don't let him get a word in
