She nodded, putting her hands over his and moving them so they could press their palms together and lock their fingers together at their sides. Some of the noise behind them had quieted, so either her neighbors had turned silent in their spectating, or they’d given them some backyard privacy.
“Keeping things the same,” she said. “Obviously, I’ve—that’s how I try to show people how I love them. Nonna, even though she’s gone. Everyone here. And even with us, when I thought you might not feel the same way back . . . I was just trying to keep myself safe, too. To go back to the things I know are a sure thing. I bolted this morning, and I’m sorry.”
“We’ll work on it,” he said. “Both of us. We’ll figure this out.”
She nodded and pressed up to kiss him again.
“I love you,” he said again, when they finally parted. “I should’ve told you the first night we were together. It feels so good to tell you, I can’t believe it.”
“I know,” she said, and then, because she could, and because she was so full to bursting with feeling, she repeated it. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
He brought her close again, kissed the words from her mouth like he was hungry for them, then bent to put his lips beside her ear, speaking quietly this time, like he wanted to make sure this was only for them. “You’re the first, you know.”
She shuddered at the feeling of his breath against her neck, at the memory of that first night they’d had together, when he’d told her that their physical connection had felt like a first for him, too. But something about his hold on her hands, something about the way he held his body, signaled her that he was saying something new. She leaned back so she could see him, searched his eyes and found them more serious than she expected.
“The first person you’ve been in love with?” She’d assumed that’s part of what he meant, when he’d told her he’d fallen for her sixteen years ago, but—
He shook his head, and then corrected. “Yes, you’re that, but . . .” He lowered his head, loosening a hand from hers so he could reach up and straighten his glasses in a move that made Nora’s whole body ache with longing for him.
He came close again, and whispered in her ear. “You’re the first person to ever say that to me.”
God, she was going to be so dehydrated at the end of this day; she felt like she could cry for hours over this one precious, painful revelation. She didn’t need to ask if he meant it, because she knew it was true. She knew that the people in Will’s life who should have told him first had somehow thought they needed to save all their love for each other, and she felt sorry that they hadn’t given themselves the chance to say it to their son, too.
She wrapped her arms around him again, hugging him close. “I’m going to tell you all the time, all over the place,” she said. “Every morning, first thing. At night. In bed, at the dinner table, in the grocery store. I’ll blow up your phone with texts.”
She felt him smile against her hair.
“I’ll take it,” he said.
“And this might sound sort of funny at the moment, but I’m going to make sure I’m not the only one who says it to you.”
The people in the building behind her, they were already well on their way. Mrs. Salas crossed the finish line a long time ago, probably. Nora was going to make sure Will Sterling never wanted for love again.
“I’ll take that, too,” he whispered, maybe something pleasantly embarrassed in his voice.
“Hey, now!” That was Benny calling, and when Will and Nora turned he was standing by the back door with Jonah’s duffel, all her neighbors around him. “We’re going to go see the chief. Give you two some privacy.”
“Oh, are you two going to—”
“Do not finish that thought, Corrine,” said Marian. “We’re leaving.”
The group filed past, offering knowing smiles or small congratulations, a funny little applause dance from Mrs. Salas before they piled into two cars and went on their way, and then it was only the two of them out in this sunny expanse of backyard, the building suddenly a whole new future behind them.
Will tugged her hand toward it. “Come tell me you love me in a different location,” he said, his smile loose, easy, perfect.Happy.
She smiled back, teasing in the way she stalled him. “Wait a minute. What are we going to do about this tree you brought?”
“I’m going to plant it,” he said simply. “Right where the old one was. When it gets big enough, we can carve our initials into it. Sort of a memorial, right? To the day we almost met.”
Her heart skipped, remembering that day in his apartment, after he’d seen the photograph of his parents. After he’d told her he didn’t want anything serious.
“You’re sure about that?”
He leaned down and kissed her again, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip—brief, hot, full of promise. A forever sort of kiss.
“I’m sure,” he said. “I’ve got a feeling. You and me, we’re those kind of people.”
Epilogue
