"I do too." She tries to stiffen her lip, sniffling, and tries to just focus on the warmth of his closeness.

She pauses, breathing out a quivering sigh.

"I've never loved anyone like I've loved the both of you. I've never felt this."

She's never said anything like it; even when she told her family she loved them, it was obligatory and reactionary, parroting back at them like a trained pet. She brings in a hand to wipe her eyes. Loving people this way is freshly frightening.

She considers, suddenly, she never told Susan that she loved him—it hits her, and her chin dimples, thick, fresh tears falling anew.

"I never told him I loved him...!"

That...

really made her feel like a terrible person.