Page 46 of Friends to WHAT?!

“Of course,” she murmurs. “I would love nothing more.” She reaches into her tote to pull out a zipper pouch shaped like a frog. She unzips its mouth and reaches in to unearth two pens—red and green.

I sit back in my seat and try not to squirm.

Her pinky-purple lightweight sweater falls off her shoulder, exposing tantalizing skin to the air. I check my own cardigan, making sure it hasn’t likewise fallen. The soft material is perfect for sitting under the air conditioning vent that aims at this booth—the reason I suspect that Sterne prefers it—but the smooth yarn is also very good for falling right off my shoulder and down my arm, where it isn’t keeping anyone warm, let alone me.

Thankfully, my cardigan is staying perfectly placed in its correct spot.

Leora doesn’t fix her shirt as she hums over the whiteboard photos.

The air-con keeps air-conning right on us, raising visible goosebumps along her collarbone and over her exposed shoulder, where she should be protected from the frigid air.

I curse and fix it for her, exhaling as my fingertips brush her pebbled skin.

She looks up at me under her lashes, blinks, then shimmies her shoulder so that the sweater falls again.

My breaths shallow.

Keeping eye contact, I fix it again, pressing my fingers harder against her skin, then dragging them up, over her throat and to her jaw. There, I grasp her. “Leave it,” I order lowly. “Do not drive me mad as you tear me apart. Please.”

“Why do you believe I’ll be tearing you apart?” she asks. When it doesn’t appear she’s going to drop her sleeve again, I let her face go and focus on her question.

“Because there is much to tear apart,” I answer, tipping my chin to her pages of tearable Wolfe bits. “I don’t think I’ve had as much growth as you seem to be implying.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replies, sliding her hand across the first photo. She presses down, spreading the journal as far open as it will go. “I think you’ll be surprised at how well you’re doing.”

“We’ll see,” I allow, unconvinced.

And then, we do see, and…

She’s right. It’s not nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

She goes over my pros first, and determines all of my previous pro behavior remains as is. I am still a good, loving dad. I am still an excellent pen pal. I am still good at cutting melon into fun shapes. She circles them all in green, along with the rest as she goes down the list.

Next, she picks up her red pen. “The cons,” she declares, drawing a big circle around the first of the whiteboards depicting my flaws. Then, she takes her pen, and she crosses out half of them in one fell swoop. The other half, she marks off one by one, leaving only a couple without a line through them as she goes.

She turns the page and does much the same, and then again, and again.

“Not too many left,” she mutters. “Most of these had the same root, and you’ve been making progress in leaps and bounds.” Her eyes flick to mine, satisfied. “You’ve done well, Wolfe. You’re asking for what you want. Sure, you need prodding, but I fully believe that you’ll get to a place where that becomes unnecessary, and probably sooner than I even expect now. All of the cons left are related to that need. Once you overcome it, you’ll be completely golden.” She slams her journal shut with a definitive snap and tosses it carelessly back into her tote. Her pens get swallowed by the frog, and in they go after it.

I stare at her, agape.

She slides her plate of fries to their previous spot and resumes her munching. “Good meeting,” she says. “Efficient. I like that in a meeting.”

I…

“You really think I’ve already overcome that much?” I ask in a whisper. “That soon?” Surely not. Surely that’s… I mean, it’s too good to be true, isn’t it? It’s too…hopefulto be true.

“I know it,” Leora says soundly, a casual confidence allowing her words to come easy and calm. “You’ve been doing amazing, Wolfe. I mean, you yelled? At an entire bar? Full of customers? And beyond that, there’s this… I don’t know.Vibeabout you lately. I know we weren’t ever together in real life before, but I still saw you sometimes—around town, or at the park, or wherever. I spent most of that time trying to hide from and avoid you, but I stillsawyou. And seeing you, it was impossible to miss the sort of…” She shakes her head, frustrated as the word she wants doesn’t come. “Sorry. You just always seemed a little like life was happening to you, instead of you happening to life. Now, I won’t say that you’re taking life by the throat and making it yours, but you’re certainly not letting it happen around you. You’re not the water flowing through banks formed without your effort. You are the water surging forward, carving a path slowly but surely that will one day change the very environment you inhabit. You’re making curves in the earth, steadily and purposefully. You still have the softness of the soft river in you, but now you have more access to the raging current beneath, too. It’s a balance, and you’re learning it well.” She grabs my hand, pulls it to her cheek, and nestles her face in it, a simile of a hug. “I’m proud of you, Wolfe, and you should be, too. You’re doingwell.”

I should tell her I love her. Right now, I should tell her I’m in love with her.

How could I not be in love with her when that’s how she sees me? So clearly into my depths? And she’s still here, patient and caring and helping, for no reason other than that she’s amazing, and beautiful, and so, so lovely. She sees a broken me, and she builds him up, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return.

I want to give hereverything. Now. All that I am, and all that I’ve ever been, and all that I ever will be.

A flicker of movement in my peripheral vision catches my eye, and I drop my gaze from Leora’s to check the video monitor. On it, Amia shifts, but doesn’t wake.

Will Amia feel the same way as I do about Leora? Will she love her this much?