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I put my glass down and stand up slowly, eyes on his tall, strong back as he messes with the ice cannister, fidgeting to get his excessive energy under control and I walk forward. Growing in determination and confidence, knowing this is what I should do.

Watching him as I close the gap between us and sensing his own quiet despair that me knowing about what he did will send me running for the door twice as fast. I can feel his tension from afar. That scared little boy awaiting the inevitable rejection from another woman deeming him unworthy of love because of the things he was programmed to do.

Who could love someone who kills so brutally, so cruelly?

Me.

I could.

Because I understand why.

No hesitation, nothing else in my head except this overwhelming feeling that I want to do this. I need to do this. I owe him this.

I walk up right behind him, slide my arms around his waist and push my head against