“I guess you’re cute all the time. Just different kinds of cute,” I say.
“Should we go back to your party?” she questions.
“I’ve already put in an appearance. I’d be okay with staying in this corner with you all night. We could make this spot one of my top three favorite places to be?” I offer.
“What are your current top three favorites?” she asks.
“TheSocial Sciencessection at that bookstore in Nashville,” I start to list. “Oh, that couch on stage in Dallas, and any place you are.”
“Then this is already a top three.” She laughs.
“I’m always in my favorite place when I’m with you,” I admit honestly.
Rachel grins. “You’re good.”
Then she rises on her bare toes, her lips finding mine, her warmth spilling out, and my pulse quickening. My hands are soon in her hair, pulling her closer to me as my back leans against the wall.
“Well, I hate to interrupt because it looks like it’s getting good, but they’re here, Evan,” Lily says.
And her words pull me back from slipping into a new universe with Rachel as I was beginning to see stars behind my eyes.
They’re here.
I made a decision and ran it by Lily first, and I hope Rachel will see the good in what I did.
I pull away from Rachel and nod at Lily. “Thanks, Lily.”
Lily nods back before leaving us.
“I invited a few people,” I start to say to Rachel, but then pause and take a deep breath. “Do you remember our conversation on stage in Chicago, when you asked me if I ever wished I could rewrite a beginning and change a story completely?”
She nods her head. “Yes.”
“And I told you that sometimes I get to the point in a story where I realize I wrote so many things wrong, but the worst part is realizing you can’t rewrite everything, not without losing what matters, too?”
She nods her head again, and I can see curiosity tugging at her eyes.
“Well, I didn’t want to continue writing our story and lose what mattered,” I say.
She looks confused.
“I wanted to make sure we still have the characters in our story that matter,” I try to explain, and I’m beginning to wonder if this is a really bad idea.
“The characters?” she questions.
“I invited your family,” I blurt out.
“You what?” She shakes her head.
“I…” I stammer. “I’m sorry. I probably should have asked you. It’s just that you see the good in everyone. You somehow saw the good in me, which is basically an impossible task, and I know they’ve hurt you, but well, when I fixed your luggage wheel and you cried, I knew…I knew that you’re a person that doesn’t always need the new beginning, you just need someone to help you fix things, to find a plot twist in the story, and I want to help you.”
I find myself rambling, which is unusual, and it feels foreign but freeing, and now I understand Rachel when her words pour out…because she gives her heart so easily to others and I feel comfortable giving her mine.
She’s crying now, but I know these tears. The ones that are Rachel’s glitter—it’s her gratitude.
“And they came?” she asks through her sobs.
I pull her into me, holding her. “They came.”
