“Okay. So maybe …” I pause. Avoid Caz’s curious gaze, twisting my fingers together in my lap, where no one can see them. “Maybe you can talk about how … I don’t know, how his laughter sounds. If it’s rougher in the mornings, or lower on the phone, or how he always tips his head back when he finds something funny. How—how you can only see his dimples when he smiles at something real. How you’re jealous of everyone who loves him, who knew him before you did. “And you probably didn’t mean to fall for him. At all. You probably had a plan, precautions in place. Maybe you were at peace with your
...more
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
