That makes him smile. I can hear it in the way his breath changes. He rests his forehead against the back of my head.
“You know you’re spending the night, right?”
“I’d better.” I smile into his chest. “I expect a big breakfast.”
His laugh is quiet and pleased. “Deal.”
I let out a sigh, my eyelids growing heavy. “I’m making the toast, though. You always burn it.”
Beck laughs again. He runs his hand down my arm, soft and grounding. “You can make all the toast, all the mornings, Gracie Ann. I’ll make the coffee.”
Sleep comes for me then, soft and dark, and the last thing I think is that we didn’t cross a line tonight. Beck and me.
We came home.
Epilogue
Beck
1 Year, 2 Months Later
My mom sits on my left and Marie on my right. We all stand when they call Gracie’s name. Everyone claps, but I clap the hardest, my heart nearly bursting with pride.
Gracie steps forward, her hair spilling from beneath the square blue cap perched carefully on her head. The gown brushes mid-calf when she walks, swaying around her legs. A gold braided cord hangs around her neck.
Gracie graduated with honors.
Of course.
She’s Gracie. I expect nothingless.
Behind her, the steps rise to Low Memorial Library, with its famous domed roof. It’s a warm day in New York, bright and clear. Most graduates wear sunglasses. I made sure to get Mom and Marie bottles of water to bring with us. Sitting out here for three hours listening to speeches and awards isn’t easy.
But I’d sit here all day.
I’d sit here forever.
Just to see her shine.
Gracie walks across the stage with her head high and her smile adjusted to megawatt as she accepts her master’s degree. Biomedical engineering. I know she’s thinking about how tough the past year has been. All the late-night study sessions. The failed experiments. Fighting for that top internship and getting it. I know how hard she worked because I was right there for all of it.
I took that New York job. Moved here with Gracie. We picked a tiny apartment in Washington Heights. It’s a walk-up, and of course we’re on the fourth floor. The radiator clangs at three a.m., and Mr. Lewis downstairs likes to blast polka music, but still—
It’s ours.
Our first place together.
We’ve laughed in that apartment. Fought in that apartment. Made love in that apartment. Burned toast. Studied on the kitchen floor. Talked about futures that used to feel too big to say out loud.
Someday we’ll move somewhere less crowded. Easier.
But right now, our place is a thirty-minute ride on the A train to my office in Midtown. Close enough to the lab job Gracie got at NYU.
Gracie’s almost to the end of the stage now. She pauses, scans the crowd. Even from this distance, I see it. The moment her smile shifts. Softens. Turns private.
For me.
I smile back, hoping it shows how proud I am of her. How much I love her.
