No one cares about me. I’m not you, Ryan. It’s you they worship. So, please, let me go be a social butterfly because I’m starved for attention.” Her eager brown eyes lighten with humor. “You cross-stitch?” “Proudly.” “You grandma.” She smiles at that, matching the now relaxed grin on my lips. “Are you sure?” “I didn’t shave and moisturize every inch of my body to go back home. Yes, I’m sure.”
