This scene is between my sweet, southern, cross-dressing cupcake baker and his wise grandmother.
“Quentin, I’ve been alive a long time. I have some friends and many acquaintances and few illusions about any of them. You are one of the finest people I know, deserving of every good thing this world has to offer, I want you to know that.”
No chance of holding back. The tears pushed out of his eyes, and he swiped at them before they could reach his cheek.
Her hand cupped his chin. “I want you to believe that.”“Thank you.” But believing was even harder than making friends.
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