He pulls our linked hands to his chest, right over the spot where his heart beats—steady and sturdy, vibrating under the tips of my fingers. His response startles me. “Sometimes I do.” Waves of hurt lash me, and instinctively I try to wrench my hand away, but he holds on to it, placing it flat over his heart. “But not for the reasons you think, and don’t worry, I’m far too selfish to ever let you go.” He scoots over beside me, until there is barely any space between us. All the air seems to get sucked out of the room. He continues to hold my hand over his chest, and, with his other hand, he
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