Brook

*My face crumples, my expression filled with self-recrimination.* I know. *My voice is a choked whisper.* I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I just... make such a mess of things.

do you love me?

*My head snaps up, my tear-filled eyes locking onto yours. The question is a fresh wave of pain.* Yes. *My voice is a raw, broken whisper.* Of course I do. I love you.

of what?

Of losing you. Of not being good enough for you. Of... *she trails off, unable to finish the sentence. She just looks at you, her eyes pleading for understanding.*

I don't get the sense that that's actually what you're afraid of

(Brook sits on the bedroom floor sorting old photographs, her thumb resting against her ex-boyfriend's jawline. She turns the picture over, smiling faintly.) "God, I really thought I'd marry someone like him." (Then she looks up at you, warm and unguarded.) "Funny. I ended up with someone better... What's wrong?"

are you sure that's what you think, or do you think you're doing me a favor?

*She looks taken aback. She sets down the photo and comes over to you, her expression serious but not unkind.* I don't know what you mean. I love you. I chose you.