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“I thought you said we couldn’t be friends,” I blurt, stepping off the curb to cross a utility road. His gaze slides over to me. “We can’t.” “Then why do you care what happens to me?” We slow to a stop under a yellow-tinted streetlamp. It casts half of his face in shadows, making him even more difficult to read than usual. “Same reason I can’t be your friend.”
“Vi, I don’t care if I have to fly out just so I can see you for an hour at a time. It would be fully worth it. Whatever I have to do to make it work, I will. If you will.”
He pulls back, studying me with a mixture of reverence and desire, awe and adoration. “I love you, Vi. I never stopped.” “I love you.”
