“I…” He starts, his gaze on the piano keys. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” I scoff, but my voice is softer when I reply. “Then what did you mean to do, Higgins?” He looks up at me again, and the look in his eyes steals the breath from my lungs. It’s… gentle. Warm. Serious. Something I never see when he looks at me. I’m not sure if I like it. “I just want to know you, Wendy,” he whispers, so softly I could have easily missed it. The words paralyze me. I can’t think. I can’t speak. I almost can’t breathe. I don’t know why, but his confession makes me feel as if I’m not in my own body. Maybe
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