“It’s a burden.” “The fuck it is,” he says. “You are not a burden. This, what we have, is not a burden. Don’t ever think that. This is a partnership. This is what real love is about.” He lifts my chin again. “You matter so much to me, and whatever might happen to you, I want to be a part of it—the good and the bad. That’s love. What that fucker texted you? That’s nothing but a sour man trying to take someone down. He’s jealous because his life isn’t where he wants it to be. Those words are not about you. They’re a reflection of him. You, my love, are perfect.”
