"You're probably going to think this is crazy or weird. I've been saving up money," I say, surprising myself with the confession. It wasn't what I planned to say, but suddenly I need him to know.
Jay looks at me, confused. "For what? Something in particular?"
"Maybe. I've been trying to save as much as I can. Since I started working, since I got my first real paycheck." I set down my pizza, turning to face him more fully. "I pay Rosalyn rent every month. She didn't want to take it at first, said I was part of the family and family doesn't pay rent. But I insisted. I wanted to help with the other kids, with groceries and bills and all the stuff that comes with having a house full of people. But after that, after rent and my basic expenses, I save as much as I can. Almost everything else."
"That's smart. That's good financial planning," Jay says, but he's clearly confused about why I'm telling him this.
"It wasn't about being smart or planning for the future." I pick at a thread on the comforter, finding it easier to look at my hands than at him. "It was about you. It was always about you."
"Me?"
"I always knew—or I always hoped, at least—that I'd find you eventually. Someday, somehow, I'd get a hit on one of those searches and I'd find you." I take a breath. "And I wanted to be ready when I did. I wanted to have something to offer. Money saved up, a good job, stability. I wanted to be able to help you if you needed help. I wanted to be—I don't know, useful. Worth having around."
"Ivan—"
"I know it doesn't make logical sense, right? Saving money for years for someone I might never find? Someone who might not even want my help? But I kept doing it anyway because the alternative was—what? Spending it on things I didn't need? I'd rather save it for the possibility that you or we might need it someday."
"Ivan, that's—" He stops, shakes his head. "I don't even know what to say to that."
"You don't have to sayanything right now. I know that's a lot. I know we've only been—whatever this is—for a week. I know it's crazy." I rush on before I lose my nerve. "But I've been planning for this for years, even when I didn't know what it would look like. Even when I had no idea if you'd even remember me. I just knew I wanted to be ready for anything."
"You saved money for someone you couldn't even find. Someone who might have been dead for all you knew."
"Yes. I know how it sounds."
"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard." He shakes his head slowly. "That's—Ivan, that's—"
"I know it's a lot. I sound like a psycho." I'm babbling now, nervous. "I'm not asking for anything right now. I'm not trying to pressure you or make you feel like you owe me something. I'm just telling you because I want you to know. This isn't—" I gesture between us. "This isn't casual for me. This isn't me figuring things out or experimenting with me. I've been waiting for you my whole life."
Jay sets aside the pizza box, pushing it to the foot of the bed, and pulls me into his arms without warning. He doesn't say anything, just holds me, tight and fierce, his arms wrapping around me like he's trying to absorb me into his skin. His face presses against my hair and I feel him shaking slightly.
"I don't deserve you," he whispers.
"Yes, you do. You deserve everything good."
"I really don't. You have no idea—"
"You do. And I'm going to keep telling you until you believe it." I wrap my arms around him just as tight, holding on. "Every day. Multiple times a day if I have to. You deserve good things. You deserve to be cared for and—"
He laughs, a watery sound that might be half a sob. "That could take a while. I've spent years believing the opposite."
"I've got time. I've got all the time in the world."
We stay like that for a long moment, holding each other in the dim light of the motel room. The pizza is getting cold on the bed. Neither of us cares. This is more important. This moment, this connection, this feeling of being held and wanted and not alone.
"So," Jay says eventually, pulling back just enough to look at me, his eyes red-rimmed. "What does building a life together look like? Practically, I mean. Not the fantasy version. The real version."
"I don't know yet. We figure it out as we go." I brush a strand of hair off his forehead, let my fingers linger on his skin. "Maybe I come here every weekend for a while, just like this. Maybe you come meet Rosalyn and Mitchell and see if you can stand my crazy family. Maybe we start looking at apartments together, see what we can afford, what we want."
"That's a lot of maybes."
"It is. But that's okay. We don't have to have all the answers right now." I kiss his forehead, soft and gentle. "We've got time to figure it out. We've got all the time in the world. There's no rush."
Jay closes his eyes, leaning into my touch. "All the time in the world," he repeats. "I like the sound of that. I like thinking about a future. I haven't let myself do that in years."
"Well, start getting used to it," I tell him, pulling him back down onto the bed, tucking him against my side. "Because I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me."
"There's no place I'd rather be stuck than with you."
