“I think”—he swallows—“I think there’s a part of me that still loves you.” There’s a pause long enough to make her hope that the next word is and. “But I’m not going to slip back into some inane conversation with you like we’re buddies. We’re not going to have any late-night phone calls anymore. I’m not your coffee date. I’m not your shoulder to cry on.” He inhales sharply. “I deserve more than that. Even if it’s not with you.”
Someone just stabbed me in the chest
