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“Koen?” I’m almost fully asleep, my lids too heavy to open. “Yeah?” “I think you owe me an apology.” “For what?” “The way you stared at my tits.” Silence. Then, instead of the I’m sorry or Go to fucking sleep I expect, he says, “I think you owe me an apology.” “For what?” “How spectacular your tits are.”
There are only that many kidnapping and murder attempts a child can endure before developing serious issues and self-destructive behaviors. We wouldn’t want her to grow up and, say, go to grad school.”
“But what about the martyr character arc I’ve always wanted?” “Not on my watch. Not in my territory. Not under my protection.”
“I thought you said you didn’t lie.” “Did I? I must have gotten it wrong. Or maybe things have changed. Have to admit, killer, that your presence in my life has been humbling. A fucking revelatory experience.
“Serena. If you’re not going to let me bullshit an answer, just stop asking questions.”
“You told me that you loved me, Serena,” he says simply. His eyes are earnest, liquid. So profoundly good. “And while I’m willing to resign myself to an existence without the person I love, I refuse to condemn you to it.”
I should leave him, right? But I love him so much. Almost as much as he loves me.”
He sighs. Tightens his hold on me. “Such a fucking nuisance.” I wonder why it took me until this very moment to realize that it’s been his way of saying I love you all along.
