I roll toward her and take her into my arms. I press my lips into the crook of her neck. “Do you love me, Nathe?” she whispers. She asks me this all the time. It’s an affectionate joke between us. I screw up my face and pause as my chest constricts. “You know I do.” I kiss the back of her head. “Go to sleep.” “Goodnight, Nathe.” I remember how perfect that ten minutes were when she was in my arms, and I smile sadly into the darkness. “Goodnight, Eliza.”
