Genevieve was asking if I’d ever be happy. Would I stop living life by going through the motions? Did I deserve to feel joy? Did I deserve a life with her? I wanted it. I wanted that future more than I’d wanted anything in my life. I wanted to deserve this woman in this bed. I wanted to be a man who smiled because mine seemed to illuminate hers. But I didn’t have a damn clue how to get there. “I hope so, doll.” “I hope so too,” she whispered.
