“You feel like home,” he says quietly, running his fingers along my smile, tracing the happiness he’s unleashed. “These last few weeks away . . . I thought writing to you or calling you would be enough, since we’d done it for so long with so much less. But that wasn’t enough anymore; I want it all now. I meant what I said before—I love London, but this is where I belong. I love you, Nora.” “I love you too,” I whisper.
