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That’s amazing news. I’ll tell Mom. She’ll be so relieved.
Nothing is stopping us now,he replies.We’ve got our lives ahead of us. I know it’s odd for a forty-year-old man to say, but I feel like a little kid filled with excitement for the future, knowing everything will be perfect. No… not knowing. WORKING to make YOUR life as perfect as it can be.
Well, that’s good because I plan on doing the same for you.
I almost finish the message withI love you, but I hold back. He hasn’t said it yet, though he did say it waslove at first sightwhen he saw me. I heard it, didn’t I? I didn’t hallucinate, but we still haven’t exchanged those weighty words.
“I’m so happy for you,” Natasha says, adjusting one of her many bracelets. “I always wondered what you’d look like if you were in love, and now I do. You’reglowing, Zoey.”
I glow with joy, which isn’t saying anything new. I’ve beamed with joy since Mom revealed the truth about a silly drunken mistake that meant a lot to her and slammed into her with the force of a betrayal. She didn’t mean it. She never wanted him. Nothing ever happened between them.
“I’ve come so close to telling him I love him,” I murmur, “countless times. After we have sex, or when we’re in his library, reading together, but I can’t say it first.”
“Why not?”
I swallow. “He might not say it back.”
My phone buzzes, and Natasha laughs. “Go on. Check it.”
“I don’t want to be rude.”
“Don’t be silly. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. It would berudenot to check it in my book.”
I take out my phone again.
Wait for me after your classes are done. There’s something I need to say to you… in person.
What, texting isn’t good enough for you now?I reply.
Texting is what brought us together. It will always have a special place in my heart. I’ll always value it, but not for this, my perfect wife-to-be.
When he calls me his wife-to-be—and this isn’t the first time—I struggle to understand why he hasn’t dropped the L word yet.
I don’t know whether to be scared or excited,I reply.
Excited, I hope.
“He’s being very cryptic,” I mutter, “but I can’t imagine him doing anything to make my lifeworse, you know?”
Natasha stares at me, and I realize I haven’t filled her in on the text. Once I have, she nods slowly.
“I think I have an idea,” she says.
“What?”
She grins. “Nah-uh. If I’m right, I’d hate to ruin the surprise.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
“I’d never forgive myself for getting your hopes up.”
* * *
Open any of my books, and what do you see on the first page?
I’m sitting in the park between classes. Natasha doesn’t share the next class with me, so I’m alone, munching on a sandwich as I try stubbornly to remain in the moment, attempting to tame the nerves that shiver within despite how incredible this past almost-week has been.
A dedication to Dad,I reply, remembering.You always dedicate your books“For Luke, my brother.” Is this a test? Did I pass?
