“Don’t,” she cries, shoving me away. Walking away, she lets out a tortured laugh that breaks my heart. When she turns back to face me, she’s on the verge of tears. I make a silent vow to never be the cause of those tears again. “I can’t do this again. No more games. No more pretending. I want something real.”

I don’t hesitate before I answer, “This is real. It’s always been real. I love you. I think I have since the first time I saw you.”

“Oh, yeah? You have a real shitty way of showing it,” she quips. She doesn’t believe me and I don’t blame her.

“I know. Fuck, I know. This scares the hell out of me and I’ve been a pussy. I’m sorry.” I reach out for her, but she pulls away. She’s slipping through my fingers and the idea of losing her again is ripping me apart. “I’m so goddamn sorry.”

“Don’t for a second think I’m trying to buy your love.” She crosses her arms and glares at me. Her words are vicious, but her tortured eyes are filling with tears. I can’t break through the wall she’s built between us. “Helpful tip, don’t make the next girl pay for it.”

Every instinct I have is telling me to cut my losses. Turn around and never look back. But I ignore them all. If I leave now, I will lose her forever. Instead, I dig in, determined to hold on no matter the cost.

I take a deep breath. “This isn’t about money and there isn’t going to be a next girl. You’re it for me. I love you.” Anger drains from her face, replaced by stoic nothingness. There is no recognition in her blank expression. I say it again, silently begging her to hear me. Believe me. “I. Love. You.” She stares at me, right through me. I use her name this time. “Elizabeth Marie Wilde, I love you. So fucking much.”

She’s dazed. Her eyes are wide and her mouth agape. I might have fried her brain.

“That’s not… But you said… You can’t…” She can’t form complete sentences.

“I can. And I do.” She doesn’t believe me and there is only one thing I can think of to convince her. “I got a tattoo.”

She blinks at me and shakes her head. “What?”

I pull up the cuff of my sweatshirt and take a few steps toward her so she can see the silhouette of a feather on my left forearm. Thank fuck she doesn’t pull away. “I got it last week. I realized that even though my goose flew away, she left a mark.”