If she keeps looking at him now, she'll just fall completely to pieces; the soft, earnest sound of his voice is already more than enough to get the job halfway done, thanks.

"I love you, Frank," she says before she can think to stop herself, her focus on the floor, expression pinched. "I'm not going to act like that's an easy thing, or ever has been, but trying to change it really doesn't—" She pulls in a breath, eyes falling closed. "No, that's a lie. I've never tried to change it. I cared about you before I even met you." A fleeting peek up at him, then another glance away.

"I want you around. I care what you think. I would like to see more of you, to know if you're really okay. It would be nice to know for a fact that when you show up on my doorstep, it isn't just for my dog. I would like to feel like this isn't an uphill battle— And I know some of that is on me. I get it. But if the problem is things not being said plainly enough, now you know."