Even though he was here, she couldn't quite process it. She squeered her eyes shut before opening them again. Yep, still there. Amazing.

Trust me on this: no one is better off alone.

But if it couldn't be love and it didn't feel like lust, what was it? Like? Did he like her? Of course, he did, but that word didn't capture his feelings, either. It was a little too... vague and soft around the edges. People liked ice cream. People liked to watch television. It meant nothing, and it didn't come close to explaining why, for the first time, he felt the urge to tell someone the truth.

When I told you that I’d pray for you, what did you think I was talking about?

Why did you say you believed me ?" In profile, he could see both the young woman she was becoming and the little girl he remembered. "Because I trust you.

She smiled. "I need your opinion," she said. "What do you think about something sleeveless for this weekend? With a cinched waist and a medium train?" I brought my hand to my chin and considered this. "Sounds okay," I said. "But I think I'd look better in a tuxedo.

You were honest and hardworking and kind. You were polite and patient and more mature than any guy I’d dated before. And when we were together, you listened in a way that made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. You made me feel complete and spending time with you just seemed right.