His lips moved, but he never managed to finish the sentence.
I looked at him. "You're used to me booking the hotels, packing the medicine, and taking care of every problem for you. But when I warn you that the road is dangerous, you call me a buzzkill. You want me to take good care of you, but you find the person doing it too dull. Ideally, I should finish everything, step quietly aside, and never interfere with the time you spend with Daisy."
Vincent stared at me as if still waiting for me to make an excuse on his behalf. I said nothing. His lips trembled, and tears finally slid down his face. It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. I instinctively raised my hand and almost touched his cheek. He looked at me eagerly, but my hand stopped. Pushing down the ache in my chest, I stepp
