One week later
The brick walkways at Yeats University are filled with bicycles and skateboards rushing by at this late hour in the afternoon. The eucalyptus trees create a wall of greenery that leads out to the expansive lawns where girls sit in clusters while boys throw a football back and forth. Classes start in a week, and I’ve already situated myself. I have no idea why I let Kennedy talk me into joining her when I could have spent a few more blissful days with Ace. But he mentioned he had a trip planned with Gavin so we wouldn’t be together anyway. The distance is already killing me, and it’s been less than twenty-four hours.
Thank God I have Brylee. She bops alongside me like a child at an amusement park, gawking at all the boys zipping by while they openly flirt with the two of us.
“This year is going to be masterfully insane.” She grips my arm. Her blonde hair billows in the breeze like pale feathers. “I’m going to have orgasms by the dozen just walking to class in the morning.”
“Eww, and remind me to walk in another direction.” I lead us over to the giant falls that cascade over the English building into a narrow reflecting pool that runs down the center of campus. “This sort of reminds me of the Forbidden Falls.” It was a special place to my mother and me, and now Ace and I will always have those amazing memories there.
We take a seat on the edge of the retaining wall, and I pluck out the envelope markedSpecial Recipes.
“You ready?” She pulls her knees to her chest, looking intently at me.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I knew Brylee would be the best person to have by my side while I read this. Kennedy might have balked at my mother’s whimsical advice. And I would have done it with Ace but a part of me is afraid she’ll say something that might make me cringe in front of him.
I pull out the letter and hold it in my hand a moment. It’s soft and supple as my mother’s flannel nightgown. The letter unfolds with the breeze, and I’m startled to see so few words.
Brylee leans in and wraps her arm around me.
Dear Reese,
If you’re reading this you have already found love. I’ll pepper my birthday letters to you with advice, but here I’ll give you just the bare bones. I could say, make sure he loves you, treats you right, make sure he’s gentle, and has a livable sense of humor. Make sure he’s kind, cooks, and cleans up after himself. Make sure he shares the remote, but I won’t say any of those things. I trust you to know them. But I will say this:
Does he make you happy? Then you’ve caught your ecstasy.
You already know the true recipe for love. It’s been buried in your heart all along—trust it.
Love you forever,
Mommy
A single tear runs from my cheek, staining the page right over the word ecstasy and makes it bleed out, stretching its inky tendrils across the parchment. That would be just like my mother, demanding I let the ecstasy take over. She had a zest for life especially in those last few weeks. She called it instant perspective. She said life liked to throw us a curve ball sometimes until we got it right. My curve ball came last year when I had to spend it away from Loveless—away from Ace. But, now, a magical summer has passed and he’s mine, and yet, I still ache for him as much as I did before, if not more. For now, it looks like I’ll have to catch my ecstasy on the weekends with him.
I curl in and hug the letter as if it were my mother.
Brylee is busy texting away on her phone.
“Geez, sorry I bored you,” I whisper.
She looks up, her eyes stained with crimson lines. Tears roll down her face as she shakes her head. “You killed me.” She lunges over and gives me a hard squeeze. “I have to run, but do me a favor—don’t move. I have a surprise for you.” She wipes her tears with the back of her hand. Brylee leans in and gives me a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I hope I’m as lucky as you someday.” She hops up and skips off toward the bookstore.
I sink myself back into my mother’s letter and touch her pretty handwriting, laying my fingers where hers once were. It’s magic like this with her, my hand over hers just like in those final hours. The breeze picks up, it whistles and howls, and I hear her whisper my name clear and high like a knife over crystal.
A body sinks next to me, and a familiar cologne filters through the air. I’m afraid to glance over, afraid to break the delusion.
“Heads, we play Monopoly. Tails, we skinny dip.”
I suck in a breath and look up.
“Ace!” I fall over him with a hug until I nearly knock us backward into the water.
“Let’s preserve this.” He helps me put my mother’s letter back into the envelope.
“You drove all the way down to see me? This is why I love you.” I dot his face with kisses, his eyelids, each deep well in his cheeks—I never want to stop.
“I love you, too. But actually I drove down here to ask where Beueller Hall is?” He flattens a paper that looks an awful lot like an admittance letter.
