"Like the sun loves the flowers that brighten its day," he whispered. "Like a body loves the heart that beats for its life. God help me, Marty, I love you until I know I would die without you."
He couldn't exist without her. There was no life, no heart, no soul if he lost the spirit that kept him alive. Marty was the life, the heart, the spirit that had kept him reaching for a new day since he'd met her when she had been no more than fifteen.
A part of him had known then. His soul knew now. The pleasure she gave him, the warmth she filled him with, the touch that kept him centered to the earth was more than he could bear losing.
She was his heart. She was his soul. She was a pleasure that held no guilt, no shame. A pleasure that met his, matched it, and heated the coldest night.
His Marty.
"I love you, Khalid," she whispered.
And he smiled. For the first time in more years than he could remember, he truly smiled.
"And I, precious, love you."