Basilic had no idea how to answer the question. All he knew was that he did love both of them, but that he knew his only chance for happiness was Phoebe. She was like him; so different from others, alone.
"I... I don't know, Phoebe, I honestly don't." He'd hung his own head by now, the guilt revealing itself by the crack in his voice, the lump that had appeared in his throat and the ache there when he spoke. He stood up and turned Phoebe's face towards him. "Phoebe, I do honestly love you, but I love her as well. I can't lie to you about that. But I would never try to go back to her. She broke my heart before, and I'd never give her the chance again." He opened his arms slightly, inviting her to hug him. He waited for her to make the move; he'd already done enough harm.