“So you’d still be my girlfriend even if I’m in prison forever? That’s not a life you deserve.” She grins, her cheeks going a lovely shade of red. “I don’t believe we’ve crossed that bridge.” I pull a brown strand from between her lips. “What bridge?” “The one where you ask me to be your girlfriend again.” Something swells in my chest, and the tip of my nose touches hers. “Will you?” In all honesty, the title “girlfriend” seems minuscule and immature considering what we have. I’m madly in love with her, and she’s made it clear she feels the exact same way. If we were in a different position,
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