The Bodyguard

Maybe love isn’t a judgment you render—but a chance you take. Maybe it’s something you choose to do—over and over.

For yourself. And everyone else.

That may be your job,” Jack said, gesturing at the Tahoe, “but this”—he placed his hand on my thigh like it belonged to him—“is my girlfriend.”

“You can’t make people love you. But you can give the love you long for out to the world. You can be the love you wish you had. That’s the way to be okay. Because giving love to other people is a way of giving it to yourself.”

When you rang the bell, I said, ‘Who’s going to die tonight? You or the lady?’ And he didn’t even hesitate. He volunteered to die in a heartbeat.” Wilbur gave a little shrug. “Isn’t that sweet?”

Didn’t I just say there’s nothing between us that’s real?”

“Yeah. I didn’t believe you.”

Jack stared at me, like that made no sense.

So I added, “You aren’t that great of an actor.”

The thing I wanted most wasn’t London anymore.

The thing I wanted most was Jack.

I hung up the phone.

Screw London.

I was already running.

When you’re not around, even for a little while, I feel like I have to go find you. I just feel this pull to be near you. I want to know what you’re thinking, and what you’re up to, and how you feel. I want to take you places and show you things. I want to memorize you—to learn you like a song. And that nightgown, and the way you get so cranky when I leave my stuff all over the place, and the way you tie your hair back in that crazy bun. You make me laugh every single day—and nobody makes me laugh. I feel like I’ve been lost all my life until now—and somehow with you I’m just … found.”

I wasn’t trying to prove anybody wrong.

I just wanted that kiss.

Happy now?”

But Jack just shook his head.

And then he leaned in, and he pressed his mouth to mine.

Jack was giving me Drew’s necklace? Something about that seemed like a very big deal.