"'Loving them?'" He finished the sentence. Not for her — just completing the thought that the sentence had been building to.
He sat with it for a moment.
"'I suffer from something,'" he said. "'A condition. I don't usually—'" He looked at the Ferris wheel. "'It's not the kind of thing you say to someone you've known for a day.'"
She looked at him.
"'Oh,'" she said. The specific, slightly awkward sound of someone who has been in an intimate conversation for twenty minutes and has just hit a wall the conversation wasn't expecting. "'You don't have to—'"
