“I want you for me,” he says again. “I want your smiles for me, the ones that I’ve worked so goddamn hard for and that come so much easier for everyone else. I want it to be easy like that for you to smile and laugh with me, not with Oscar and not just with the people at the café. I want you to get everything you want, but I want it to be with me, too, and I don’t care if that sounds selfish anymore. I want this house, but I want it to mean something more. I want you to stay with me and I want you to never fucking leave. I want your bobby pins everywhere and your hair in the shower and I want
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