“That’s incredible, Lo. Congratulations. I’m really proud of you for letting the world see how talented you are.”
My gaze falls to the sketchbook in my hand, and I flip through a few more pages, already knowing I’m gonna spend the whole flight home looking at it—no matter how hard those damn speech bubbles are to read.
“Thank you for this,” I whisper, closing the cover again and returning my attention to him. “It’ll be a cool piece of proof toshow off when you’re a famous manga author one day.”
“Mangaka,” he corrects with a smile. “And not to give you a chance to sayI told you so,but—”
“We both know that’s your line.”
He laughs, then shakes his head while his tongue pokes at his cheek.
“Well, it should be yours, apparently.” My confusion must be written on my face, because his smile turns into more of a cheeky grin before he elaborates. “Someone high up with this contest works pretty closely with a manga publisher in Japan. He asked for permission to send the one-shot to one of their editors, and…long story short: The publisher wanted to know if I was looking to do this professionally. They offered to kinda pull me into their artist community to work under a mangaka as an assistant. And it’d give me an open door to hopefully publish my own work too, with the help of a translator.” Another laugh slips out while he reaches around to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I know that’s a lot of confusing information, but—”
“Hey, don’t ever apologize for being excited about something like this,” I say, shaking my head. “I might not understand it, but I know this is important to you. That’s all that matters.”
In truth, I’ve never been more proud of him for doing what I knew he could all along, for finding a path to something that really, truly belongs to him. His own legacy.
I just hate knowing it’s about to send him halfway around the world.
His teeth sink into his lower lip, gnawing at it while he nods. “Well, I hope you know, I couldn’t have done it without you believing in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself.”
The statement is meant to be one of gratitude, but it’s bittersweet at best, the way it punches me in the chest and steals the air from my lungs.
“I think you’re giving me far too much credit,” I manage, thewords ground out over shattered glass, even after clearing my throat.
“Except I’m not. Not even fucking close, actually,” he insists. His eyes soften, becoming more somber, tainted with sadness around the edges. “You know, after the wedding and everything that happened between us, I was still so lost. Maybe even more than before, which is probably why I was so tempted to give up and start being realistic, despite the promise I made you. But every single time I thought about burning the sketchbooks or becoming a super senior because of switching majors, there was this tiny voice in the back of my head that wouldn’t let me.Yourvoice.”
The last couple words waver as they come out, and it nearly severs what little resolve I have left. Almost has me reaching out, ready to pull him into my arms and offer him comfort the way I have so many times before. The same way he has for me in return. But I fight it—fight the instinct that’s become nearly as automatic as breathing—and wait for him to continue.
“And I don’t think it was the promise that stopped me from going through with it. I think it’s because you’re so many things I want to be.You’rethe one who taught me what resilience looks like, what it truly means to dedicate yourself to going after a dream. To not let anyone or anything stop you from going after what you want, saying fuck the odds. So I took a leap of faith and did what you said.” He smiles and gestures to the sketchbook in my hand. “You’re the reason for this, Cam. You’re the reason for all of it.”
I blink rapidly, and glance away as some distorted sort of smile pulls at my lips. Because the feelings inside me are just like the night of the rehearsal dinner, and I’m doing my best to not break down like that all over again.
“I’m just… I’m really fucking happy for you, Lo. You deserve all this and so much more.” Clearing my throat, I manage toask the question I’ve been avoiding since the wordJapanspilled from his lips. “Do you get to finish school before you move, at least?”
“Yeah, since I only have one semest—” His words cut off abruptly, his brows drawing together before asking, “What do you meanmove?”
“To Japan. For the job with the publisher.”
“I’m not moving,” he says slowly.
A mixture of a laugh and a cough slips out, and I shake my head. “I don’t understand. If the publisher is over there, then—”
“Just because the publisher is in Japan doesn’t mean I need to be. Yeah, I’m gonna have to keep some weird hours sometimes, especially since the editor is over there, but…” He trails off, shrugging sheepishly, and I crack a bit of a smile.
“Yeah, that’s not really new, is it?”
“No, not at all.”
There’s a beat of silence before I find myself searching for confirmation. “So you’re not going to Japan?”
He bobs his head back and forth, a little smirk forming. “I mean, maybe to visit one day, but not to live. I’d much rather stay in Chicago. With you, if you’ll have me. No expiration date.”
The world tilts on its axis, those last three words registering in my brain and instantly causing my chest to swell. It might be the dumbest thing my goddamn heart could do, but I can’t stop it from happening anymore than I can stop myself from loving him.
Yet, doubt creeps in, refusing to let me believe this is actually what he wants.
Wetting my lips, I murmur, “But if I get traded, then—”
