“No,” she said. “You are the last person I want to see.” “Well, you are the last person I want to see, too.” She gestured in exasperation. “Then why are you—” “You are the last person I want to see before I fall asleep at night. Every night. The last woman I want to kiss for the remainder of my life. And your lovely face is the very last thing I want to see before I die. Because I love you, Alexandra.”
