“Is the truth. Your freckles.” Ilya grazed a fingertip over his own cheek.
“I am nuts about them.”
“I have no idea why. I hate them.”
“Noooo...” Ilya moaned. “Hollander. They are stunning.”
“Stunning?”
“Yes. Am I not using that word right? Very beautiful. Um...take my
breath?”
“Wow. All right.” The skin under Shane’s freckles turned very, very pink.
“The first time I met you. Those freckles...”
“The first time? You mean at the World Juniors? In Saskatchewan?”
“Yes.”
Shane huffed out a surprised laugh. “You were such a dick to me.”
“Mm. I did not like you. Just your freckles.”
That admission would have been embarrassing enough, but Ilya had also
slipped in an “and on top of everything, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you
and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“You look good too,” Ilya said. “Someone take you shopping?”
Shane looked at him. “If I tell you something, do you promise not to tell
anyone? Or make fun of me?”
Ilya felt an icy stab of dread in his stomach. He braced himself, and said,
“Sure.”
“I, uh...” Ilya waited for the words. I’m seeing someone. I’m engaged. I
don’t need you anymore. “I hired a personal stylist.”
Hayat, kişinin sadece yaşayıp geçirdiği bir şeyden ibaret olduğunda, hayatta kalmanın gereklilikleri bütün zamanını ve gücünü aldığında, başka gereklilikler için geriye kuvvet bırakmadığında ve zaman hızla geçip elimizdeki her neyse onu ihmal içinde kurutup çürümeye bıraktığında, başkasının aynı şekilde devam etmesini beklemek gerçekten o kişi için fazlasıyla büyük bir yük.