“You’re sorry? I damn near drank myself to death, I could barely get out
of bed, I shattered my phone into a million pieces on New Year’s Eve to keep
from calling you … and you’re sorry?”I bit my lip and nodded, ashamed. I had no idea what he’d been through, and hearing his say the words made sharp pain twist inside my chest. “I’m so … so sorry.”
“You’re forgiven,” he said with a grin. “Don’t ever do it again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
He flashed his dimple and shook his head. “I fucking love you.”
He scanned my face with careful hope in his eyes. “You love me?”
“It’s the tattoos,” I shrugged.
“It’s the tattoos,” I shrugged.
