“If you’re not there yet—” Her hand shoots up and covers my mouth. “I love you too.” I exhale audibly. “Of course, I do. How could I not?” The relief I feel makes me dizzy. “It’s my abs, right? Maybe my charm and wit. Or my magic fingers.” “It’s all of you.” She tangles her hands into my hair and kisses me. That’s the thing about Dahlia. She sees past all the superficial bullshit. I’m not just a guy with terrific arms (her words, obviously), or a successful college quarterback, or a guy most likely heading to the NFL. That stuff doesn’t mean anything to her. I have no doubt she’d support me
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