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Hopefully she wasn’t getting sick. But if she was, at least Isabel would be around to take care of her.
It meant admitting that she’d ever wanted anything at all. To have someone see her as both smart and beautiful. To be taken care of, to matter, to be loved.
Mira wasn’t weak, exactly, but a lifetime of living inside her head had made her uncoordinated.
If this was all they’d ever have, Mira would remember this moment even more than the kiss: holding Isabel, and being held.
Mira didn’t owe her anything. She was going to do right by Mira for as long as Mira wanted her.
“I guess you’re special.” Isabel’s face went red-hot. She wasn’t even trying to be smooth. She just adored Mira so much,
Isabel would never have anything more precious in her arms.
“You’re so precious,”
My bed is yours. I’m yours. Everything I have is yours. And you’re mine.
For all of Isabel’s confidence, she acted like every time they had sex was the most astonishing thing that had ever happened to her.
I wish I knew how to be good enough for you to stay.”
Mira had cracked her open and changed her from the inside out, and Isabel would always be grateful. She would find a way to survive.
She was going to be so sexy as she grew older, and Mira wanted to be there for every single day and year and decade of it.
“You know I’m already yours,” Mira said, pressing their foreheads together. Isabel waited for the rest. “And you’re already mine.”