“God, Lily, I remember you. Everything we did and all that we meant to each other. Being with you now makes me wish we’d never left. We had everything, and we didn’t even know it. I want to get it back.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m not ready for anything like that,” I whispered.

“The only way you could hurt me is to refuse to try. We can go slow. We can be friends again. I can be patient.”

“You’ve never been patient.” I laughed softly at that.

“For you, I will be anything. I will do whatever it takes. I have been missing you for years, and you haven’t been mine to miss. Memories of you were torture because I couldn’t have you. I only saw you in my dreams. But now my eyes are open, and you’re right here in front of me, more beautiful than ever. I want to make you mine again.” There it was. I kind of knew he felt that way, based on how my family had talked about him. Like us getting back together was a foregone conclusion.

“I have feelings and memories too, but I won’t let myself get lost in them. This is too much right now,” I told him, because he had to know the truth.

“Don’t get lost. I’m not asking for that. I just want to be with you. It’s simple, really,” he insisted.

“You don’t want much, do you?” I teased with a laugh. Trying to steer this conversation back into the realm of casual.

“Just you,” he replied, grabbing the proverbial wheel and steering us back into Intenseville.

“Well, we’re not starting with my heart on a platter, Luke.”

“We can go slow. We can just talk, get to know each other again. When you’re ready, I will explain everything. I’ve learned a lot, Lily. I’ve changed a little bit too. We can go at your pace,” he offered.

“My pace is going to be slow. Possibly nonexistent. Think snails and old ladies with walkers. I don’t want to lead you on. I’m telling you up-front. Get rid of all your expectations. I don’t have much left in me.” I warned.

“You have everything I want. I can still see it in your eyes. When I can get you to look at me, that is,” he teased.

Oh, my heart couldn’t take this. “You can’t say things like that. That is not going at my pace,” I accused.

“I’ll be honest about how I feel. Going at your pace means I can wait until you can be honest about how you feel.” That half-grin was back. I could never resist it. Especially all those times he would kiss me after doing it. And why did he think he knew how I felt? I didn’t even know how I felt.