She curled against me, kissing me softly, her tears making my heart heavy. “Don’t cry,” I breathed, her pain the worst kind of curse to bear. “Don’t shed tears for a man made of stone.” “You’re not made of stone,” she said, kissing me again. “You have a beating heart, and it loves me, remember?” She lifted my palm, pressing it to my chest, and sure enough, I found a heart there, beating slow but hard. “Of course it loves you,” I said. “How could it not?”
