Chapter 421: Am I Dead?

Georgia's POV:

He doesn't say anything. His mouth doesn't even open to try and speak. I can't tell if it's because he's as overwhelmed as I am or if he's struggling for what to say first, trying to decide whether to give me the rollicking I know I deserve or to tell me he loves me.

Everything around us stands forgotten. The criminals. The police. None of it matters. He's all I see.

He stands there, utterly silent and seems to breathe me in as if I'm the oxygen that he's been craving. As if when I drove away from him, I took away his ability to breathe easily.

He could almost be a figment of my imagination, the last thing my mind recalls before I die, except he's too solid, too warm, too perfect.

There's no way my imagination is this good. I've never been exactly creative. I'm more on the pragmatic side.