We were either the bad kind of right or the good kind of wrong. It was hard to distinguish the two. We had a reckless love and perfectly awful timing. We were impossible to describe, and that’s why every time I tried to put us into words, it made no sense. He released me and again took my hand, taking a step in front of me. “Isaac?” “Yeah?” He glanced over his shoulder. “I love you too.” A slow smile slid up his face. “Then I’m a lucky son of a bitch.”
