““Jake,” she whispered. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since yesterday and—” She looked down. “I think it was a mistake. You and I not being . . . only friends anymore.” “Aletta.” He turned to face her. “You just need time, that’s all. And I’ll give it to you. As much time as you need.” She shook her head. “I can’t . . . I can’t, Jake. I’m sorry.” She turned to leave, but he took hold of her hands, and she didn’t pull away. But he could feel the struggle inside her, could see the fear in her eyes. Fear that—instead of pushing him away—had the exact opposite effect. “I love you, Aletta. And I’m fairly certain you love me. Though not as much as you will twenty years from now when I’m old and bald.” She gave a throaty laugh but shook her head again. “I can’t go through that pain again, Jake. I’m not that strong.” “But you are that strong, Aletta. If it came to it, you would be. God would give you the strength,” he whispered, his throat threatening to close. “And don’t think I’m not a little scared too. Because I am.” He gently wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But what scares me more than the thought of one day losing you . . . is the thought of not having spent my lifetime loving you.””
