“I think your mom’s in heaven,” I tell him. He flicks his eyes, amused and maybe a little caught. “She was a Buddhist.” He gives me a weak shrug. “She doesn’t fit the bill.” I squint at him because it’s all I can do to keep myself from touching him. If I look at him properly, I’ll have to touch him, I’ll just have to; he’s too beautiful not to. “I think in the Bible, the point is that Jesus paid the bill.”
