I’m withdrawing my application to her program.” Admiration swirls with affection, my breath catching at the fierce determination on her face. It’s the same look she had in my adviser meeting, facing off with tenured professors twice her age and experience, not batting an eye in the face of their frustration or doubt of her. I love her. I do—and it’s more than that; I admire her, every piece that makes her my Rosalie. “Okay,” I say, nodding stupidly.
