“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, gripping his T-shirt at his waist and dipping my forehead into his back. “I’m not . . .” My voice shook. “I’m just . . . not a happy person, Will. And you’re right, I never will be.” Tears lodged in my throat, and I blinked long and hard to keep the tears away. I didn’t want to cry in front of him again. He stood there, still, only the beat of his heart pulsing through his body. “I’m not right for you,” I told him. And not because he was rich and popular and I wasn’t, but because he made my life better. I looked forward to him.
