Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
It still feels good, like I'm safe, like I'm home.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
I nod and step inside.
His friends cheer as he follows. Then he closes the door and he blocks out the rest of the world, his world anyway.
We're still surrounded by mine. The books on the shelf, the movie posters, the massive TV (well, as massive as my budget allows).
"I like your place." He looks around. "You share it with someone?"
I nod. "A med student. She's usually at the library."
"And not interrupting your Sabrina watch parties?"
"I can't watch right now."
"Why not?"
"Because it finally happened to me," I say. "I learned how to love and I broke my heart in the process."
"I love you too." He reaches for my hand, stops himself, turns over his arm. "I'll always love you, Val."
I try to find some response between let's celebrate this declaration with less clothes and so fucking what? I need more than I love you. I need you in my life. Then I see it.
The design he drew on his wrist.
One-half of the best friend necklace.
It's new, fresh, still covered in plastic.
"You did that for me?" I ask.
He nods. "I'm sorry, Val. Everything was good in Europe, when it was us, and then we got back home, and I saw your family, the way they looked at me. I heard that shit your mom said to you."
"What shit?"
"That I'm no good for you."
"Who cares what she thinks?" I ask.
"You do," he says. "And I guess I do too. I hated the thought I was like my dad. That I was going to turn your life into something that revolves around me. I don't want you to be a planet in my orbit. I want you to be the sun."
"Dare—"
"But that was bullshit. Not all of it, but some. I was scared. I am scared. That I'm not enough for you. Not smart enough or ambitious enough or refined enough. That one day, you'll wake up and realize you want a guy who knows more than color theory and cunnilingus."
"Those are equivalent skills?" I ask.
He laughs. "Are they not?"
"Who's going to pick someone who knows color theory over cunnilingus?"
"Is artistic talent not important?"
"You're solid across the board," I say. "But yeah."
"Well, I do have that." He smiles. "And I have other shit too. I know how to cook. I run my own business. I'm honest. I appreciate your knowledge and your thoughts and I want to learn. And I can't promise I'll always feel like that's enough, but I'll try."
"Yeah?"
"Every day, I'll try. If you can forgive me for being an idiot."
"I can."
"I love you, Val." He offers his hand.
I pull him into a tight hug. "I love you too."
"Fuck, I missed you."
"Me too." I bury my head in his chest. "Will your friends wait if we celebrate this properly?"
"With gin tonics?"
I shake my head.
He laughs. "Probably not. But I'll just have to spend the night. Make you breakfast in the morning."
Epilogue
DARE
Even from across the room, Val shines like a star. Right now, she is the sun, and we're lucky to bask in her light.
She looks gorgeous in her royal blue dress, her eyes lined in gold, her lips a perfect shade of raspberry. But it's not the flecks of honey in her irises or the way her outfit hugs her curves—
It's her.
She glows.
She looks up from her conversation with her PhD adviser, well, her former PhD adviser, and finds me. She smiles and shakes her head can you believe she's at it, again?
I nod I can.
She shakes her head will she ever stop?
No. Of course not. But the woman wants to gush over Val's progress. Who can blame her?
We're here, at her mom's house, to celebrate her accomplishment.
My fiancée is a doctor.
It's sexy as hell.
There are a few new paintings on the wall, a red couch instead of a burnt orange one, a brand-new TV, but otherwise, the place looks the same.
The way it did all those years ago when I worried I was snuffing out her light. And I was, just not the way I thought.
We both needed time and space to grow, together and apart. Only we didn't need to end our relationship to do it. We just needed to focus on our own worlds for a while.
As badly as I wanted to move into her tiny UCI apartment, I didn't. And I didn't let her spend the entire summer in my bed. Lots of nights, sure. Most weekends, yeah. But not the entire summer.
She followed her dreams. I followed mine. Then, once we'd tried hard enough on our own, found our own paths, we followed them together.
It's been a wild ride.
After playing with the idea for a while, I started a temp tattoo company. It never reached major heights, but I sold the business for a small sum. Those connections led to an opportunity to dabble in tattoo-inspired fashion. Which was fun, for a while. Eventually, it was too much bullshit, and it took too much space from the work I love, putting ink on people's skin.