“I really like Claire,” I admitted. “She’s wildly smart and thoughtful. She’s kind and inquisitive. And obviously, she’s gorgeous.” “But she doesn’t want to cross any lines? Is that the issue?” Pace asked. “No. The opposite actually.” “But you don’t want to?” Pace asked with a frown. “She’ll be gone before Christmas,” I said. “I really like her,” I repeated, cringing at how juvenile that descriptor felt for the massive knot of feelings currently tying me down. Pace leaned back as understanding dawned. “You don’t want to get caught up in anything, only for her to leave.”
