" Eleanore," he whispered again, tilting his head to mine, his lips skimming past my cheek, his breath in my ear. "I'd wait forever for you, you know. If it mattered. If you'd care."
"I do care," I whispered back, miserable.
His fingers tightened, warm and firm. "No, you don't. Not the way I mean. Not yet. "

― Shana Abe , The Deepest Night (The Sweetest Dark, #2)