“You can’t love me, and you shouldn’t just say that,” Corwin protests, voice shaking. “I can, actually, and I do. Probably going to keep saying it, too, until the message gets through your thick head,” I respond, and he scowls. “I love you, despite all those hardships I’ve endured in this relationship.” “So, you’re going to tell me you love me, call me names, and then make fun of me? Nice.” “Welcome to the rest of your life.”
