“No, it’s good,” I said.
Then we both lay down flat on our backs and stared up at the sky together. So many stars. It was freezing cold, but I didn’t care. Conrad took my hand, and he used it to point out constellations and connect the dots. He told me the stories behind Orion’s belt and Cassiopeia. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I already knew; my dad had taught me those constellations when I was a kid. I just loved listening to Conrad talk. He had the same wonder in his voice, the same reverence he always had when he talked about nature and science.
“Wanna go back in?” he asked, sometime later. He warmed my hand with his.
“I’m not going in until we see a shooting star,” I answered him.
“We might not,” he said.
I wriggled next to him happily. “It’s okay if we don’t. I just want to try.”
Smiling, he said, “Did you know that astronomers call them interplanetary dust?”
“Interplanetary dust,” I repeated, liking the feel of the words on my tongue. “Sounds like a band.”
Conrad breathed hot air on my hand, and then he put it in his coat pocket. “Yeah, it kinda does.”
“Tonight, it’s—the sky is like—” I searched for the right word to encapsulate how it made me feel, how beautiful it was. “Lying here and looking up at the stars like this, it makes me feel like I’m lying on aplanet. It’s so wide. So infinite.”
“I knew you’d get it,” he said.
I smiled. His face was close to mine, and I could feel the heat from his body. If I turned my head, we’d be kissing. I didn’t, though. Being close to him was enough.
“Sometimes I think I’ll never trust another girl the way I trust you,” he said then.
I looked over at him, surprised. He wasn’t looking at me, he was still looking up at the sky, still focused.
We never did see a shooting star, but it didn’t matter to me one bit. Before the night was over, I said, “This is one of my top moments.”
He said, “Mine too.”
We didn’t know what was ahead of us then. We were just two teenagers, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. So no, he didn’t give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.
chapterfifty-seven
He knocked on the door once. “It’s me,” he said.
“Come in.” I was sitting on the bed. I had changed back into my dress. People would be arriving soon.
Jeremiah opened the door. He was in his linen shirt and khaki shorts. He hadn’t shaved yet. But he was dressed, and his face was unmarked, no bruises. I took that as a good sign.
He sat down on the bed next to me. “Isn’t it bad luck for us to see each other before the wedding?” he asked.
Relief washed over me. “So there’s going to be a wedding, then?”
“Well, I’m all dressed up and so are you.” He kissed me on the cheek. “You look great, by the way.”
“Where did you go?”
Shifting, he said, “I just needed some time to think.I’m ready now.” Leaning toward me, he kissed me again, this time on the lips.
I drew back. “What’s the matter with you?”
“I told you, it’s all good. We’re getting married, right? You still want to get married?” He said it lightly, but I could hear an edge in his voice I’d never heard before.
“Can’t we at least talk about what happened?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jeremiah snapped. “I don’t even want to think about it again.”
