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I pressed it to my heart, too moved, too heartbroken, to even speak.
“It’s lovely,” Wolfe said, voice wavering. “Thank you for that.”
She shot him a fast smile and darted away, pink-and-white sneakers flashing down the path.
I didn’t know what to say.
I was grateful for the memory she captured. Glad there was a piece of him I got to keep that was just my own. It would remind me that this time hadn’t been a dream—that he was real.
That we were real.
On the other hand…
I wished I could see his face in it. I wanted to remember every single detail of him. Every freckle. Every scar. The wry twist of his mouth, the flash of amusement in his eyes.
I slid the photo in my pocket, pressing it tight to my hip.
“No tears,” he chided gently. “Not yet. Come on.” He shot me a smile, though it didn’t have its usual lightness to it.
I nodded, allowing him to tug me up the path to the lighthouse. The view here was just as spectacular and I studied the drop below me, wondering what it would be like to fall into the wind like the birds around us. The water against the base of the rocks was a stunning blue-green that reminded me of the waters along the coast of Spain.
Wolfe wandered to the edge, jacket rippling.
I dug my phone out of my pocket and took a few photos, heart just as erratic in my chest. I trained the lens his way, fingers going numb. There was nothing there where he stood, just a blank space.
I moved the camera away and there he was, shining like a newly buffed penny.
I pulled the photo from my pocket, the grainy edges of him around me.
So this would be it then.
The only…the only sign of him left.
I swallowed down my tears, pocketed my phone, and joined him at the edge.
“So,” he said, knocking his elbow into mine, “what’s the dream now?”
You, I wanted to say. Just you.
“I don’t know,” I confessed. “I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Any other landmarks you’d like to see out there in the world?”
I’m sure I had a list stowed away somewhere, but I couldn’t think about that right now.
“There’s a library in Austria I would love to go and visit. I’d like to go to Champagne one day. Honestly, Wolfe, I’m just—” I couldn’t bring myself to say much more.
He understood though.
He always did.
“Then let’s linger a little while longer.” He tugged me to the grass, situating me between his legs. “Can I tell you a story?”
“Please,” I murmured, linking our hands.
We sat like that for the better part of an hour, staring out at a horizon we would never be able to cross together. Groups and couples came and went, but Wolfe never shifted, never relinquished his hold on me. After a few minutes of listening to him speak, I was in stitches laughing.
The wind caught hold of the sound, immortalizing a moment of joy I would miss desperately when I returned home. The sun slid back out from behind a cloud and for a moment, I felt infinite, endless.