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“Don’t.” He takes a step toward me. “Don’t do that, Eve. That’s not what this is. That’s not what we are.”
“Isn’t it?” I whisper.
It’s suddenly all too much. I skirt around him to the bathroom and make quick work of getting ready for bed. He doesn’t say a word as he does the same. Or when we strip down and climb into bed. Or when he wraps a cautious arm around my waist and tugs me back into the curve of his body.
“I love you, Eve.”
My chest feels too tight. I love you too. I don’t say it aloud. I can’t say it aloud. I wish hearing those words from him were enough to ward off the dread churning through my stomach.