" I can’t come up there,” I whispered. “I can’t do it. I can’t wake up in the morning and go back to being nothing.”
The thunderous roar of waves amplified the silence. I figured he had dropped the matter, and I let my vision blur in the glimmering crystals of his art deco chandelier above.
Then he spoke. “I can’t wake up tomorrow and not smell you in my sheets, Snitch. "

― Mary Catherine Gebhard , Stolen Soulmate (Crowne Point #2)