But he made himself admit the truth. “I don’t.” She blinked and shook her head before she smiled again. “You love me more than a little.” “No, Esme.” He stepped back and let go of her. “I’m sorry . . . but I don’t love you a lot or a little. I don’t love you at all.” I can’t. Her face went slack, her eyes wide, watery. “Not at all?” she whispered. “I don’t love you.” His entire being hurt like it was imploding. “I never will.”
