“I think I love you,” I whisper as tears track down my face. “It hit me just now—with you worried about me being gone, and your stupid, stained shirt,” I say between tears. His stricken face only makes me cry harder. “You’re such a fucking psycho, but I must be one too because I think everything you do is incredibly—r-romantic, and the emails—you—you always emailed me first thing in the morning, like I was your first thought of the d-day—”
