“You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you,” you said with a shrug. “All you have to do is say my name and I know.”“How?”When I looked down at you, I was struck by how much of myself I could see in the shape of your eyes, in the light of your smile. “Sa Cassidy,” you instructed.“Cassidy.”“Say…Ursula.”“Ursula,” I parroted.“Now….,” and you pointed to your own chest.“Willow.”“Can’t you hear it?” you said. ” When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it’s safe inside your mouth.”

“Can't you hear it?" you said. "When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it's safe inside your mouth.”

“When you love someone, you say their name different. Like it's safe inside your mouth.”

“But he grins, so brilliantly, not even paying attention. “I love it when you say my name,” he says. “I don’t even know why.” “Warner isn't your name,” I point out. “Your name is *****.” His smile is wide, so wide. “God, I love that.”“Your name?”“Only when you say it.”“*****? Or Warner?”His eyes close. He tilts his head back against the wall. Dimples.”

“I love you."You imagine hearing the words from someone related not related to you, someone not your best friend, but when someone you love, you dream about, actually says them, it makes your body melt and your breath get caught in your chest."You love me?" I asked, leaning toward him.He nodded. "Say it again" I said. I let my knee bump against his."I love you," he repeated.”

“What expression?” “The one you have on your face right now.” “You mean the one that says I love you so much I wish I could die for you if I could? The one that says I want to take your pain away and show you how much it’s possible to love a human being more than life itself?”