“What thefuck, Wren?”
She shrugs a shoulder. “I didn’t know what else to do. If I hadn’t agreed and something happened to you, I never would have forgiven myself. I didn’t care that much about where I went to college. You know I was unsure about going at all. And us … I knew how hard leaving you at the end of the summer was going to be, no matter where I was headed. I thought me leaving sooner might be for the best. An attempt at a clean break instead of the back-and-forth we’d been in for so long.”
“You should have told me. You should have asked me.”
“You weren’t there!”
“After. The next day, when I came over and you were packing.”
“I’d already decided then.”
I exhale.
“I don’t want to keep rehashing the past, Sawyer. I want to move forward, together. I only told you so you’re not blindsided if it ever comes up and because I wanted to be completely honest with you.”
“Completely honest? That’s everything?”
Wren nods decisively. “That’s everything.”
“That’s what you said last night.”
“I hadn’t decided if I was going to tell you about it,” she confesses.
I’m still shocked. But this revelation answers questions I’ve wondered about for a while—why she suddenly changed her mind about us, why she swapped schools so close to starting freshman year. I’m not happy she did any of it, but I am touched—flabbergasted—that she was willing to go to such extremes, especially knowing how stubborn she can be. It soothes some of the fear that history might repeat itself. That I’m more invested in us than she is. That we’ll always be tenuous and I’ll always be waiting for it to fall apart again.
“I’m glad you told me.”
“Yeah?” She looks relieved.
“Yeah. I wish you’d told me three years ago, and I can’t believe you’d?—”
She kisses me.
I kiss her back for a few seconds. Then ask, “What if they don’t like me?”
“My parents?”
I nod.
“They will.”
“But what if they don’t? Didn’t your grandfather tell them why I needed a lawyer? If they tell you to break up with me?—”
“My parents wouldneverdo that.”
“Your grandfather did.”
“And they were furious he’d interfered. I asked them not to get involved, that it was our deal, but Mom told me my dad chewed Grandpa out over it. Told him he’d never be around me or Rory if he ever pulled anything like that again. Trust me, no one will interfere. And even if they did, I’d choose you. What happened was my way of choosing you. I know it didn’t seem that way to you, but it was.”
Wren kisses me again, biting my lip gently.
“I like nibbling when you do it,” I murmur and feel her laugh vibrate against my lips.
Wren lies down first, using my chain to pull my mouth within reach, just like she did the first time we kissed. I remember that precise moment so clearly, like my brain knew, even then, to pay especially close attention to every detail.
In the quiet room, all I can hear is our increasingly rapid breathing, the friction of our lips … and her stomach grumble.
“Hungry?” I murmur.
