“Thanks,” I say, straightening as I reach for the papers. But before I take them, a thought stops me. “Were there adoption papers?”
“No,” she says. “From what I see, it is only her mother’s signature. The father didn’t sign.”
I give her another nod and finally take the papers into my hands. Then I turn and make my way back to the middle of the tent, where Aurelia is waiting for me. Masha follows behind, too impatient to hide it, wanting to know when she will see Dasha.
I reach my hand out to Aurelia, and she gently places hers in mine, her fingers slipping between mine as we walk out of the tent.
The second we step into the fresh air, I see Dasha standing there with her arms crossed, tapping her foot against the ground while Victor eats ice cream beside her like he doesn’t give two shits about the world.
Aurelia lets go of my hand the moment she sees Dasha, she rushes into her arms. I watch every movement between them, trying to read it, trying to see whether Dasha is holding Aurelialike Aurelia or like someone else. Her eyes lift over Aurelia’s shoulder and land behind me.
On Masha.
She goes still.
Slowly, she pulls back and cups Aurelia’s cheek, her hand gliding over her skin before she steps past her and moves toward Masha.
Masha cries out. “Dasha.”
Their sobs break behind me, one folding into the other, while I make my way to Aurelia. But instead of looking confused, she has tears in her eyes, her finger resting against the tip of her mouth.
“She found her,” she whispers to me. “Her love.”
I turn toward them and find them wrapped in each other’s arms. I step beside Victor and shove his shoulder while he keeps eating his ice cream like an animal.
“So, have you been a good boy and gotten yourself some ice cream?” I mock.
He lifts a brow. “You don’t pay me enough to answer that.”
“Fair enough,” I say, lowering my gaze to Aurelia.
“Meet us at the house,” I tell him. “Bring Dasha later.”
He nods, and I take Aurelia’s hand, pulling her closer to my side as we head back to the fair. I stop her in the middle of the road leading to the parking lot. Everyone rushes past us, but all I can do is look at her. Everything around her blurs. The cotton candy stands, the ice cream carts, the toy booths, they all melt into a streak of color at the edges of my vision the second I meet her eyes. Her red hair falls over the shoulders of a denim jacket that is probably one size too small, and the dress she is wearing is shorter too. And when she smiles at me with those full lips, with that light in her eyes I haven’t seen in years, I know it. I know I am deeply, hopelessly in love with her.
I step closer, cup her cheeks in my hands, and press my mouth to hers. I pull her into a kiss while everything else falls away.
Maybe it’s true that you can rewrite your own stars. I was meant to be miserable until I found her. I lost so many people, and grief took me apart piece by piece, then built me back into something ugly. Something that hid in the dark and exploded the second patience ran out. But she made me want to be better.
I wanted to be a better man for her.
Let’s ignore the fact that her fiancé is dying in a basement, along with a few other details.
Still, I’m a good guy.
Yeah, I am.
“You are beautiful,” I say, looking at her. “Never forget that.”
She smiles, and two dimples press into her cheeks as her lips fold together.
I’m getting wrecked, too.
I clear my throat, then step over to the ice cream stand and ask for a strawberry one and a mint chocolate chip one. I hand the guy more money than it actually costs, then turn back and give her the strawberry while I keep the mint.
“How did you know?” She asks.
“I know everything about you,” I say, dragging my tongue across the mint before sucking the rest into my mouth.
