“I can’t lose you.” “You haven’t.” He brought my hands to his mouth, kissing the top of both of them. “Then why does it feel like I already have?” Startled, I pulled on my hands, but he held on. “Why do you think that?” He looked up at me, his eyes the color of dewy grass. “Do you really have to ask that, Sweetness?” I started to say yes, but the word died on my tongue. My thoughts raced to find a way to deny why he’d feel that way, but I came up empty. Not because he was right. Not in the way he thought. Because it wasn’t him losing me. It was me losing myself.
