“I can’t do many things,” he said fiercely, “but I can love you, Meg. I can love you every hour of every day for the rest of my life. I swear to you I can. I want to earn the right to try.” The pad of his thumb rubbed her cheek. “I love you so much I can hardly see straight. I can’t concentrate. I can’t sleep. I can’t make myself care about anything on earth except for you. I’m useless.” “No you’re not.” “I’m a mess.” “No.” “I am.” He insisted. “About you, I am.”
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