“You really never stopped loving me?” I shake my head. “Not once. I watched you all the time.” She keeps going through the box, sobbing when she sees a hospital letter about entering the second trimester. The pictures I drew. Pictures she took. The top she left here that I never returned. She glances at me as she shuts the box. “You watched me?” “Probably more than I should have. I, um, beat the shit out of every guy who went near you.” She sits up straighter, mouth open. “You did?” I shrug and put the box under the bed again. “You were mine.” “I thought you hated me, and I was single.” I drag
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