But he wanted no more such secrets. He could say the words now. So easy it was, when all that had been frozen and buried inside him had thawed and bubbled up, fresh as the Dartmoor streams in springtime. With a shaky laugh, he brought her head up and lightly kissed her. “Ti amo,” he said. And so ridiculously simple it was that he said it again, in English this time. “I love you, Jess.”
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