“No,” I agree.
We’re silent for a while. The only sound I hear is the fountain bubbling away in front of us and some crickets chirping to my left. It’s calm and peaceful, and exactly everything I love about coming here. And now I have Declan.
“I’m not mad,” he says, straightening up and looking me square in the face.
“How can you not be?”
“I’ve been alone for a long time. I grew up in the system. Never got adopted or anything like that. Just bounced from foster home to foster home. It’s not like I have anyone who will miss me.”
“Friends?”
“Not really.”
“Coworkers?” I press.
“No. I mean, I have them. But I just worked at a cafe in the Jenkins building. It was enough to pay rent. I probably need to quit my job now and, like, give notice on my apartment?” He shrugs and settles back down against me.
We lapse into another silence and I’m really loving the way his skin feels beneath my fingertips. I draw constellations on the side of his arm and picture us seeing them. I’ll take him to any country on the planet to give him the best angle because Henry had been wrong earlier. Declan doesn’t deserve this life. He didn’t ask for it. The best thing I can do is give him everything I can.
“It’s kind of like you’ve given me a second chance at life.” He reaches up and twines our fingers together, dragging them over his lips.
“You’re dead,” I remind him.
“Second chance at death, then.” He smiles against my palm. “Why do you hate it so much?”
“It’s lonely.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Not anymore.”
“What’s your favorite color?” I ask him, changing the subject.
“Blue.”
“Movie?”
“Fast and the Furious.”
“Place to visit?”
“I don’t know.” He drops our hands to his lap. “I’ve never been out of Wildemount.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep. Been here my whole life.”
I sigh, “How old are you, even?”
“Twenty-three. Well, almost. My birthday is in six weeks.”
Fuck. I’ve cursed him to an eternity of being twenty-two.
“What day?”
“Thursday. June seventeenth.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Enough. When is your birthday?”
