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Beckett planted a kiss on top of my head.
He smiled and touched the tip of his nose to mine. It was about all he could manage in the pile-on, but it set off a warmth that spread through me.
“No, fuck it. I’m done dancing around this. Emmy, I’m in love with you.” “You are?”
“Yeah, and I’m sorry if that’s too fucking much for you right now, but I didn’t tell you how I felt when we met, and I didn’t tell you how I felt when we got married, or when we fucking slept together, for god’s sake, and that’s just bullshit. I’m in fucking love with you, and I want to be with you, and you make me really god damn happy, and if it’s just me, then I guess that’s gonna have to be how it is, because I can’t change it, and I’m really fucking tired of hiding it. I’m in love with you, okay?” It was the most strident, swear-filled declaration of love that I could have imagined. It
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