62

“Really? How is it different?”

I opened my mouth to answer and realized I wasn’t sure it really was all that different.

I rephrased. “Did you tell her that you still loved her?”

The three seconds between my words and his response were heavy and long.

Then, with his gaze pinned on mine, he answered. “Yes. I did.”

When Amber had told me Reeve still loved her, I’d felt like I was falling. Now, I felt like I was fading. As if I were merely someone in a photograph left out too long in the sun, and although parts of my figure remained, I was no longer identifiable. I was no longer a person at all.

It didn’t matter if there was more to his story or that he’d been honest with me when I’d asked or that he couldn’t really be blamed for loving a person that everyone loved, even me. All that mattered was that he’d said words to her that he still hadn’t officially said to me. I was the one who was supposed to belong to him. I was the one who deserved the sentiment, never mind my inability to say t