“He’s dead, Sam.” “I know that. He’s not gone, though. Look at us right this minute. Half the conversations we have, he’s in them. I was going to fuck you wearing his ring on your wedding finger.” The hot flash that washed over him held discomfort and hunger in equal measure. “Sorry—” he started. “Don’t be,” Sam cut him short. “It’s a choice I made, getting in this thing with you, whatever it is. But don’t mistake me, I’m not interested in filling in for a ghost.” “You aren’t,” Andrew said.
