I’ve never once made too much sandwich in my life.”
I laughed again. And then I was crying. And Edward reached over very slowly, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed, and wiped a tear off my cheek with his thumb.
“Hannah,” he said. “You don’t have to answer anything tonight. You don’t have to answer anything ever. If you want me to just be the guy across the hall, I’ll be the guy across the hall. Lunch will still be at 11:45. Nothing changes.”
I looked at him. At this big, quiet man in his funeral suit who’d spent three weeks carving seven words into a piece of oak because somebody hurt me.
“No,” I said. “I don’t want you to be the guy across the hall.”
He went very still.
“I want you to take me to dinner,” I said. “A real one. Next Saturday. No fake
