"You don't have to be," James muttered, eyes flickering over her as if of their own accord at the mere mention.
"You're right, it doesn't. Just like it has nothing to do with Nathan. It has to do with us, and with you not knowing what you want." He flopped back to slouch into the couch.
He was quiet for a moment before he finally spoke up again, voice softer than it had been. His head was lolled back against the couch as he stared up at the ceiling. Somehow it was easier when he didn't have to look at her. "I love you, you know that? You're the only one I've ever said that to, and I meant it. You can bring up all the past bullshit I've done all you want, but they didn't mean anything, not one tiny fraction of what you mean to me." He took in another deep breath and willed himself to bring his gaze back to hers. "But none of that matters if you're not happy. So just tell me what you want, Bobby, because you know what I want."