Don’t tell me I don’t love you. Don’t you dare tell me that, Margaret. I have loved you since the moment you read my brother’s book to me. I love that you are the one woman I can trust with my weakness, that you know all the dark parts of me and does not turn away. I love the fierceness with which you protect the ones you love, even when they don’t deserve it. I love every inch of you, and I want you for my own. Although, God knows, I don’t deserve you.