“You don’t think you’re better than I am?” he repeated.
“Carl, no,” I said emphatically. “That’s crazy. Where would I get off thinking like that? When I spend time with you, I spend time with you.” I pointed to his heart, touching him gently. “I’m not thinking about your parents, or your sisters, or anybody else in your family. When I’m with you, I’m with you.”
He looked over at me and blinked several times as if tears might come. After he was quiet for too long, I nudged him.
He looked at me oddly and said, “That’s the first time you’ve ever expressed any kind of feeling for me.”
“No, it’s not,” I protested.
“Yes, it is,” he insisted.
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is, Anaya.”
Maybe he’s right. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been accused of hiding my feelings.
“Look, I do
