“Did you mean it? What you said? Do you really love my mom?” For a moment, I was completely taken aback. But I recovered quickly and looked her right in the eye. “Yes, I meant it. Yes, I’m in love with your mom.” “How do you know?” “What?” “How do you know you’re in love with her?” At first I wasn’t sure how to answer the question—but then I pictured Sylvia, and the ache in my chest intensified. “Because when I think about her, my heart races. Because when she’s in the room, I can hardly breathe. Because I want to be with her all the time. Because I want to do things for her that make her
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