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“I get it,” I whisper.
Her expression flickers. Anger loses its foothold and she scrambles to retrieve it. To cover her vulnerable places with fury again. I see it play out with startling clarity. I hear it in her voice when she snaps, “I’m done with this. I’m done trying to run after your—”
“I love you, Kaelyn.”
She stops. Blinks. Stares at me.
Certainty rushes up and engulfs me until I wonder why the hell I hadn’t said this before. Done this before.
I look at her and I know.
I just know.
There are dreams that don’t come true. And there are dreams that take on human form. That put gel with extra hold in their curly hair. That wear maroon-colored lipstick and ridiculously high heels. That dance to Disney musicals and know every line of Snow White.
There are dreams like that.
And Kaelyn is mine.
In a small voice, she squeaks, “What?”
“I heard you.” I step closer to her. “I heard you and I’ll fix it.”
“You love me?”
“I’d choose you.”
Her mouth opens. Gapes. Snaps closed.
“That’s my answer.” I slip my hands into my pocket. Let my voice harden with conviction. “If I had to choose, I’d choose you.”
Her knees buckle. She grabs on to the back of the couch to keep herself upright. I hear her stillness. The blanket of silence that falls on her mind as her brain crashes while she tries to interpret and accept my words.
Then she shakes her head. Breathlessly hisses, “Screw you.”
I laugh because the truth of it was so blatant that I’m stunned she didn’t see it before now. That she needed words to confirm it. I love her. Even if I grew so familiar with the feeling it took me this long to say the words. Love was right there. Always there. As instinctual as blinking or breathing. As complicated and simple as a riddle that stumps an adult but is easily solved by a child.
I give her the words stored up in my body and my soul. “I love you.” Moving around the couch, I stand in front of her. “You don’t have to say it.”
“You already know the truth, you…” She glares up at me. “You bastard.”
“I’m sorry. I should have said it. Before. I should have—did it take you this long to figure out?”
She shakes her head.
“Did you know since the beginning?”
“I hate you.”
I touch her face. Drag my finger down her cheek. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
Her nostrils flare.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
And then I kiss her.
Home.
