Grayson just looked at me, his light eyes shadowed. “Sometimes, you have an idea of a person—about who they are, about what you’d be like together. But sometimes that’s all it is: an idea. And for so long, I have been afraid that I loved the idea of Emily more than I will ever be capable of loving anyone real.” That was a confession and self-condemnation and a curse. “That’s not true, Grayson.” He looked at me like the act of doing so was painful and sweet. “It was never just the idea of you, Avery.” I tried not to feel like the ground was suddenly moving underneath my feet. “You hated the
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