“Thank you,” he says, his eyes holding mine. “Seriously. I needed this. I needed you.” My throat is so tight I’m rendered speechless. He makes these comments so lightly, tossing them out like he utters them all the time, but every one hits me with the impact of a sucker punch. Doesn’t he understand that he can’t talk like that? He can’t make me feel like I’m firmly ensconced in the center of his world when I’m supposed to stay on the periphery.
