What do you really want?

What do you really want?” I asked him impatiently. 

“You, I want you,” he replied. 

I wasn't buying it. I turned to walk away, when he stopped me. 

“I want that part of you that gets excited when you hear the ice cream truck. The part that cries when old people die in movies. The part that cares much more than what she wears. The part where she can totally be herself. The part that when I look at her, I only see her. The part where she could never give up a stuffed animal, because she’ll feel bad for it. The part where she wants me, too. That’s what I really want.”