Page 50 of Sorrow & Strangers

“Oh? Why is that?”

He pulls me tighter against him. “Because it will always remind me of tonight.”

I laugh, looking at him over my shoulder. “Connor, this cannot be our movie.”

Connor smirks. “Why not?”

“It’s complete garbage!”

“But it’s ours. Our garbage,” Connor says, kissing me softly.

It was our last night together, a perfect night. That was the night I told him I didn’t want to wait, the night we called his parents to tell them we wanted to get married over the summer. It was the last night he held me, the last night he was alive.

The halo hums again, and I can feel his happiness radiating from it. He remembers too. He starts humming along to the song. It is the one from the credits that he was humming before.

I tap the space bar, pausing the movie. The halo stops vibrating, and a sense of anticipation settles into the silence.

“You can’t be serious,” I say to the halo, knowing that if anyone else were here, they’d think I’m insane for having a full-on conversation with a piece of metal.

The halo hums again, and it reminds me so much of Connor’s laugh that I feel like a spear has impaled my heart. My breath catches with the pain, but I push through it, unable to do anything but give in to his every whim. “All right, big guy. One last time.”

The halo hums once, and I can feel how proud he is of himself. I go downstairs and turn off the television on my way to the kitchen. I put a bag of popcorn into the microwave and lean against the counter. As I wait for it to pop, the memory takes me back to that night.

“I’m going to marry Connor.”

“Yeah?” Alice asks, the smile bright on her face.

“Yes! I’m going to marry Connor Morningstar! This summer!”

Pain ricochets off the memory, and I am thankful when the beeping of the microwave pulls me from it. Pulling the popcorn from the microwave, I add extra butter for him, even knowing he won’t eat it. I won’t either, but I still need to do this. I want to spend this last final night with him, with Connor. My Connor.

When I go back upstairs, the room looks the same. I’m not sure why I expected the pillows to be fluffed, the blankets to be arranged, and Connor to be lying in the bed with that bright smile he only ever gave to me, but all that is here is the ghost of him, the ghost of me, the ghost of us.

I climb into bed, lying in the exact same position I was in that last night, trying to pretend Connor’s large body is behind me. His scent has faded slightly, even in the short time I have been in here, and I hate it. I move the mouse, scroll back to the start of the movie, and press play. A tear slides down my cheek as it starts, and the halo hums comfortingly. I allow myself to fall slowly into that pain, into the loneliness. This time, I don’t dive into it. I just allow it to be felt, and after a while I can almost sense his presence all around me. I have no idea whether I’m imagining it or if, somehow, his warm, beautiful soul is surrounding me.

“I made it with extra butter. Just like you like it,” I whisper. Connor’s happiness radiates through me in that infectious way it used to. I close my eyes, and I swear I can feel his warmth sink into me. The tears continue, but I don’t open my eyes. A part of me is afraid that I’ll scare him off or that my imagination won’t be able to cling to the memory as well with my eyes open. Eventually I drift off with the feel of his strong arms wrapped around me and his breath at my ear.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Summer

Iblink my eyes open and look around. I’m in Connor’s room. Yes, I fell asleep in here. We were watching a movie, but was it this bright? This clean?

I see a shadow slide over the floor and I sit up a little. When I look up, my heart swells at the sight of Connor standing in front of the window, facing away from me.

Is this real? No . . . Connor’s . . . But maybe that was the dream, perhaps this is⁠—

“It’s not a dream.” Connor’s voice is like honey as it flows to me. “But it’s not real either. It’s somewhere in between.”

I sit up a bit more. “Con?” I ask, my voice trembling, caught somewhere between devastating hope and disbelief.

He glances at me over his shoulder, that bright, wonderful smile lighting up his face. “Hey, babe.”

I whimper and lunge out of bed, throwing myself at him. He barely turns around in time to catch me against his warm body. He spins me, holding me to him, love radiating from him. Oh, how I’ve missed this, being enveloped in his strong, safe arms and feeling unconditionally loved and wanted.

“Connor . . .” I moan as I inhale him. My fingers brush over his soft sweater and slide into his hair.

Connor presses his lips to my head. “Miss me?”