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Summary
She crooks her index finger under his chin, tipping his head up, waiting for him to meet her gaze head on. There’s warmth and love shining back at him that’s like a salve against the ache in his chest. “Don’t you get it by now? I could live a hundred lifetimes and fall in love with you in every single one of them.”
He’d meant it by a shimmering poolside in 1941 and he means it still: Lucy Preston saved his life.
And he loves her beyond measure.
“I do,” he whispers, and lays his lips over hers.
