I realized the thing I felt the most was my heart aching with love. Not the first kind of love with butterflies. Not the kind that was earned over time, an extension of loyalty. I loved Isaac in an all-consuming, jumping-off-the-cliff, be-damned-the-consequences sort of way. “Baby,” he whispered over my lips as I rocked my hips with his in a building rhythm. “I’m okay with dying right here—inside of you.”
