We are very similar, him and I. He understands when I tell him that you are the only one for me.” “I have no idea what to do when you say things like that,” I admit, shifting in discomfort. It’s not even the words that bother me, it’s the way he says them with utter conviction. “I will tell you. Here is what you do: you put your hand like this”—he demonstrates by placing his palm against my cheek, fingers curled gently around my ear—“and you kiss me, obviously.” “Obviously,” I repeat softly, as he leans forward to do just that. “And then you say: Henri.” He stops, and it takes me a long moment
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