“It will mean everything,” I say calmly, but with an equal edge to my own voice. “Because what we have is so much more than a missed birthday, a bad week, a good week, a string of misspoken words, a few bad decisions, or the whole goddamn world coming to an end.” With my other hand, I shove his chest, but my brick of a man doesn’t budge. And he doesn’t look pleased that I just tried to shove him. “So you don’t have to forgive me right now. And you don’t have to be gentle with me. But don’t you ever try to tell me that you inside of me won’t mean something.”
