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“Is this a, um…terminal diagnosis?” His lips twitch. “No cure, I’m afraid.”
“Well, there’s always my actual name. But if you insist on a nickname, I’d prefer something with a bit more…” “More?” “More teeth.” His eyebrow rises. “Root canal?” “No. Come on, you know what I mean. Something that inspires fear.” “Real estate market crash.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman that I’ve ever seen,” he says simply. Like it’s not a big deal. Like he’s complimenting my taste in socks. Like I could resemble the reflection of a wart on a doorknob, and it would change nothing for him.
He assesses me for a beat. “I’m not going to lie to you, Serena.” “Well, I’m probably going to lie to you a lot.”
“I can walk.” “Me too. Wanna start a club?” “Can I be president?” “Treasurer at most.” “No deal.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow morning. If anything happens to me, what do you do?” “Buy a black veil, pretend I’m a widow, cash in on your life insurance.”
“If you think I’m going to let you die, Serena, you know fuck all.”
“How perfect you are. I spent the last twenty years hoping that if there was a mate for me out there, I’d never come across them. And then I found you, and, Serena…there isn’t one thing I would change about you. Or one single thing I regret about knowing you.”
“Serena.” I hear the blurry edge of his smile. A quiet sigh. “I would throw away my pack, my life, and my entire world for you.
“There could never be disappointment, because there were never any comparisons, or expectations, or hopes, or standards to meet. There’s only…” He casts a glance around the room, searching. Then his eyes settle on me. “There is only you, Serena.”