“You don’t love me.” I choke on the words as they come out like a strangled whisper. “I do love you.” Dead. Dead. Dead. No oxygen. No words. No pulse. “Because I think I’ve always loved you, and I’m certain I always will.” He grins, leans in, and kisses the top of my head. “Breathe, Swayze. I’m not stealing you from your fiancé.” He grabs his bag and coffee. “I think a part of you will be mine to love in every life.”
