Behaving like I am not touched, I extend the book toward him.

"Take it back," I said, my voice rough from too much weeping. "I can't keep it anymore."

He stares at the book and then back at me. "Please, Hazel..."

"I do mean it. I'm serious." I press on, even though my hand is shaking slightly. "I can't keep pretending everything is fine."

He does not take the book immediately. Rather, he looks at me as if searching for the right words, the right choice of speech to utter.

His ...