A sheen of tears glimmers in Evie’s eyes.
‘And so doyou,’ I say, cupping her face with both hands. Whether she knows it or not, I need her to know thatIknow it. That I see her.
Her hands reach up to cover my own; her fingers quiver as they slip through mine. ‘I’ve missed you so much this past year,’ she chokes out.
Fuck.I want so badly to pull her close, to crush our mouths together, but there are so many people around. ‘Me, too,’ I whisper instead.
Her hands fall to her side, taking mine with them, our fingers threading tightly together. My eyes catch on her fingernails—short but unchewed. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s been working through their stuff.
‘You know, I’ve learned a lot this past year or so, too,’ Evie says, as if she can hear my thoughts. ‘I’ve always had this … this idea in my head that finding love wouldbe this big, grand, life-altering event that would magically make all of the bad feelings go away.’ Her thumb runs back and forth over mine, as light as a feather. ‘But that’s not what love is, I don’t think. Love doesn’t stop the hard moments from coming. But it helps carry you through them. Love isn’t always excitement and passion and fireworks; it’s very still—like the quiet, steady verses between the chorus. It’s one person scrolling through their phone while the other one ties on their shoes. It’s bed hair and no makeup and falling asleep beside each other on the couch. Love is knowing that you can walk out the door at any moment and choose a different life, but you don’t. Love is staying. Even when things get hard.’
Everything she’s saying is true. But it’s so crushing to hear when, a year ago, I walked away. I didn’t stay.
But youcouldn’tstay.
I take a deep breath and say it to myself again:You couldn’t stay. I had to go away so that I could stand in front of Evie right now, strong enough to give her what she deserves, without leaning on her to fix me.
My heart pushes hard against my chest wall as my gaze burns into hers.
‘I choose you, Evie,’ I say, my voice raw. ‘I love you.’
She stays completely still; even her breath seems to stall.
‘I love you,’ I say again, looking right into her eyes, wanting her to see that there isn’t any part of me left untouched by this feeling. ‘Iloveyou, Evie. I love you.’
She hums a sound of need and falls into my chest. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, accepting her, wanting her, needing her.
‘I love you, too,’ she says in a teary whisper. ‘So much.’
I more than love you. I’m fucking wild for you.
I can feel her heart thumping against my own as she clutches onto my vest, pulling me tighter. I dip my face to skim my nose over her hair.
‘Thank you for making me feel like I’m enough,’ I say softly.
She shakes her head, raising her eyes to mine. ‘You werealwaysenough. And I’m so sorry that the world made you think you weren’t.’ She takes in a shaky breath, trying not to cry. ‘You are more than I could have ever asked for, Kye.’
My last strand of willpower snaps in two, and I pull her towards me, my lips landing on hers. We sink into a dizzying kiss, Evie’s uneven breaths washing over my lips and making me want to grip her jaw and brush our tongues together. But I force myself to stop; people are starting to stare.
She slides an arm around my waist and cuddles into me.
‘What about your job?’ she asks, hiding her face in my chest.
‘I’ve already been told that I can transfer back here if I want. In fact, Mike says the Sydney arm of Angel Care could use some more help here in their partnerships andengagement team, and apparently, that means a promotion for me.’
I can’t see her smile now that she’s squeezing me again, but I feel it with every part of my body.
‘And,’ I continue, brushing away a tendril of hair that’s escaped her braid, ‘I’ve had some other thoughts, too. But we don’t have to talk about it all now.’
‘Notthoughts,’ she teases. Curiosity dances over her features as she pulls back to look at me.
‘Ifyou were interested,’ I say, ‘I thought maybe we could set up a partnership between Angel Care and DanceLab. We could host a fundraiser each year, like a dance-a-thon, where participants dance to raise money for charity. It’s just an idea, and there’d be a lot to—’
‘Absolutely,’ she cuts in, beaming. ‘I’m in.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Of course.’ She lifts up onto her toes, smiling against my mouth.
