“You love him, don’t you?” Stacy asks, glancing over at my bouncing knee. That fucking lump is back in my throat, threatening to choke me. A tear falls from my eye and I brush it away. “Yeah, I do.” It hurts to say the words out loud when he won’t accept them. Why the fuck is he here? “Have you told him?” she asks, being nosey. “I tried but he wasn’t ready to hear it.”
