Her composure broke, and she burst into tears. He spun her around, his eyes tracing her face, her tears, her heaving breaths, reading her like a book and filing away the relief etched into her features. “You’re glad it’s me,” he said, his hand settling on her hip. His hair hung over his eyes, rainwater trembling from one of the strands. “It’s because you don’t have feelings for me. I’m uncomplicated.” There was a small, understanding smile tight on his lips. “It’s okay.”
