“I told you before I left,” he says. “I’m here for as long as I’m wanted.” “That’s not a real answer, Jonathan.” “Why isn’t it?” “Because I’ve wanted you since I was seventeen years old. Saying that is like promising forever. I need a real answer.” He’s quiet for a moment, resting his head on top of mine before he asks, “What’s wrong with forever?” “Nothing,” I say, “as long as you mean it.” “Would you believe me if I promised it?”
