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Fucking TikTok. You look up someone once to perform a little professional due diligence, and its algorithm won’t let you move on. It has the memory of an elephant and the unwelcome stickiness of gum stuck to the sole of your shoe.
If you ever grant me permission to touch you, that will be it for me.’ Her eyes widen, shapely eyebrows arching in a silent question. I forge ahead. ‘I mean to say, once I touched you, I wouldn’t touch anyone else. No one. I know how to play, sure. But when I’m with someone I’m genuinely interested in, that’s it. Not out of obligation, but because that’s the way I want it. Do you understand?’ I leave the rest unsaid. I’m genuinely interested in you.
‘I meant it,’ he whispers, rubbing his nose against mine. ‘You’re going to ruin me.’ I swallow. ‘You’re going to ruin me, too.’
‘I’ve been married three fucking times, for Christ’s sake, and this’—I break off and attempt to pull myself the fuck together—‘is what I’ve been looking for the entire time. This. With you. And I’ve wasted half a fucking century without you. And I don’t regret anything that gave me my kids, but I wish I’d met you sooner. I wish that so much.’
‘Because what we have is raw and authentic, and it feeds our souls. And I can’t live without it, sweetheart. I love
you so much. So much. It seems amazing to me that I ever thought anything else was love, because this is…’ I trail off. I can barely articulate what I feel for Gen. ‘You are the real deal,’ I tell her. ‘You’re everything I’ve been looking for in a woman, my whole life, and I will do anything—anything—to make sure you never have cause to doubt me again. Do you understand?’

