His expression soured. “I’m sorry, but I hate that way of framing it. I hate that the phrase daddy issues is even in the vernacular. Like abusive failures of parents causing lifelong damage can be dismissed as just ‘daddy issues.’ It isn’t creepy to compare your partners to your parents—your parents are the ones who train you what to expect from relationships. They teach you how love works, and they train you how to expect others to treat you. That’s true for everyone regardless of who your parents are.”

A sudden darkness fell over him, and his expression grew hot with anger. She’d never seen him angry before, and it frightened her. Then he looked at her, and the anger vanished. “I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” He said it with such contrition, like he was the one responsible for wrongdoing and not Nils. “I didn’t know what he did to you. I didn’t know what kind of person he was. We never talked about our personal lives. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t—”

He leaned in to kiss her again. “Of course I still want you,” he said between kisses. “I didn’t understand, I didn’t know what kind of person he was, but now I do. I’ll never speak to him again. I promise.”

She looked into his jade eyes, so calm and sincere. A part of her wanted to lash out, accuse him of lying to her out of pity. She restrained it and whispered, “Why do you want me?”

He smiled faintly and squeezed her hand. “I just think we need each other right now.”

She tried to take a deep breath, and actually did it this time. At some point in the last few minutes, her breathing had calmed to something in the range of normal-ish.

“Besides, we’re gonna be like . . . Adam and Eve in spaaaaaaace.”

“Is that part of why?”

“No,” he said. “Not now. It’s not my concern right now. We’ve got time before we have to make any big decisions about that. My concern right now is you, and stopping the Third Option. My concerns are right here on Earth.” He kissed her on the lips, but deeply, like he was drinking her in. Then he broke the kiss and looked at her. “Doostet daram.”

“What does it mean?”

He smiled his warm honey smile, the same smile that had ignited her infatuation with him weeks ago. “It means ‘I love you.’”

What the hell? She hadn’t even entertained the idea that he might love her, let alone say it. Why would he invite such a thing? Wasn’t her love just as burdensome as her pain? Still, he must have wanted the programmed response. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t want the programmed response.

“I love you, too,” she stammered.