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“And tomorrow. And the day after that.”
“Every dream?”
“Yes.” His eyebrows go up. “You have a specific one you’re thinking about?”
“Yes.”
“Go ahead.”
I stand on tiptoe, my lower lip brushing against his earlobe, the scruff of his chin scratching my neck as I say the words, “I love you, Will.”
Instead of tensing, instead of pulling away, instead of making all of the heartbreaking choices he could possibly enact, Will moves slowly, tenderly, until our eyes meet.
Fingers settle under my chin, his eyes studying me. The words are out there now. Too early?
Or too late?
“It’s crazy, Mallory, but I feel it, too. I love you. It seems like I’ve loved you forever and am only now discovering it. But I do. My heart fell for you long before my stupid mind caught up.”
I love you. The three simplest words.
The three hardest words, too.
As he gathers me in his arms, the press of his erection against my hip a startlingly fine sensation, his lips more intense as they kiss me, I realize that the space we make together will work like this every single time.
We invent it anew.
Again.
And again.
And oh, yes–again.
Chapter Twenty
One year later
It’s the Dance and Dairy festival, the one I missed last year for the high school reunion. And the best part of this annual ritual, something I adore and will exploit for every single one of the eight concerts on the town common, involves deep-fried-Twinkie-and-pickle sundaes.
That’s right.
No, I’m not pregnant. I just love the cart that comes to the common and parks next to the seasonal stage for bands and sells fried-Twinkie-and-pickle sundaes.
I served my two-hour shift at the Habitat for Humanity table, recruiting two new volunteers for a house being built in Stoneleigh. Duty done, it’s now time for pigging out.
“Mallory! Will!” Philippe is on the stage between dance performances, waving madly at us. Dressed in his master of ceremonies outfit, he looks oddly elegant for the setting, complete with a top hat and red cummerbund.
I wave.
Will cuts him a look I don’t understand.
I take another delightful spoonful, making sure it has a little hot fudge, a little vanilla bean olive oil ice cream, plenty of Twinkie cake, and just enough pickle to complete the mouthfeel of perfection.
“Mmmmm.”
Will looks a little green.
And then.
