Chapter 22

When I don’t take it, she sighs again, and the next thing I know, that hand is in my lap, fingers easing into my palm.

“You aren’t like other men, are you, Nat?” she asks softly.

You might say that, I think, but what I say is, “What do you mean?”

Her hand squeezes mine. “I’m not complaining. I like you just the way you are.”

My throat tightens, and my chest seems unable to fill with air. “I like you, too.”