“Shit, Noah.” He stared at me, compassion in his eyes. “You love him, don’t you.” There wasn’t even a question in his voice, only resignation. I threw my head back, staring up at the soft greys of the sky above me, breathing in the London air that held a hint of salt from the river. Exhaling deeply, I clenched my fists, attempting a semblance of composure, before I finally admitted it. “Yeah, I do.” Elliot’s sharp intake of breath cracked the silence that had fallen between us after my soft admission. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Yeah. So was I.
