The guilt of who I’ve been weighs heavy on my chest, and again I tell myself I can’t change it, but I can make a better tomorrow.
“Wait here,” I whisper, abandoning Liam in roughly the same spot he stood when I ran into him that first day.
“Where are you going?”
“Just—hold on.” I clack a little further away on the cobblestone around the corner.
“Evie, if this is your way of ditching me—”
“I am no longer aware of your existence on this sidewalk and therefore will not be acknowledging any further completely unfounded accusations.” I fight down the smile curling on my lips.
Turning around the corner toward Liam, I watch his face twist deeper with confusion. I proceed slower than the day I ran into him here, as the butterflies flutter relentlessly in my abdomen, increasing their frenzy as I near him.
I pause. My eyes turn up to his face and feign surprise. “Why, Liam Kelly, is that you? Here? In Paris?” I place my heart on my palm, rubbing it. “Oh dear, if you could give me a second, I suffer from these acute heart palpitations whenever I’m near you. It’s this annoying side effect of my wild lifelong crush on you.”
Liam snorts, his cheeks reddening from the attention. He steps toward me, wrapping an arm around my back and pressing me against him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know about the crush, or I would have put you out of your misery years ago. But hopefully, we can make up for lost time now.”
“Well, that seems a bit quick and forward, but I accept—”
Liam tilts his head, and his nose brushes against my cheek. I let out an exalting breath before his lips capture mine in a slow, gentle conversation. One filled with forgiveness for the past and joy for the future. Eventually, Liam pulls away, placing another kiss on my forehead and turning.
“I believe I promised you donuts.” He offers his hand, walking me back to the storefront and gently guiding me away from a lamppost I once lost a fight with. “Careful, that could cause some serious damage.”
“Really rude of them not to move out of the way, to be honest. The audacity some lampposts have.”
“Planning on writing a strongly worded letter to the Council of Lampposts on the matter.”
“Heard their meetings can be illuminating; maybe we should go.”
Liam pauses, opening the door with a grimace. “Oh, you know, I just realized I had this load of laundry I need to change out.” He backs up on his heels, and I grab his vest, pulling him inside.
“Ha. Ha. But I’m not buying it. I know you like me, bad jokes and all.”
“Or in spite of,” he cheeks. I glare to surrendering hands. “Kidding. Kidding.”
I order a pink frosted donut and two cups of decaf coffee, leading Liam to the table where just a month ago I thought an unnecessary epilogue was being written by Caleb and Eli.
And there, under the light of a very hard, immovable lamppost and the last winks of twilight, Liam and I start our new chapter.
“To the new beginning of an old story,” I toast, splitting a pink-frosted donut between us for the second time in our lives.
And hopefully the last.
Because as great as a metaphor this is, Evie doesn’t share food.
Liam beams, pulling his phone out and angles it at me like he’s taking a picture. I smile over my shoulder before sending a quizzical gaze at the reverie held in his eyes. He nods to the light cascading on us. “Fairy princess,” is all he says before he brushes his fingertips under my chin and pulls me in for a sweet, toe-curling kiss.
I get lost in the moment, in the magic swirling around us. In the warmth and sparkles that radiate and tingle my spine with every pass of his lips.
Until a loud bang rattles my heart in my chest and forces our lips apart with a jump. I glance down at the ground where my cane fell from where I propped it up.
I pick it up with a sigh. Even when it’s not stabbing me, my endo finds a way to ruin the moment.
17
Sweet Surrender
Twodaysafterthebest birthday ever, I wake up to persistent drumming on my door. Oh hell, what time is it? I pad around for my phone nestled somewhere in the comforter, squinting with one eye at the blaring bright white light on the screen. Eleven a.m.
