“Jules and my parents jumped in pretty quickly, and I was able to start therapy with the campus health center. One day my therapist asked if I could think of something I was looking forward to.” He rubs his jaw, the light stubble there. “Do you know what instantly came to mind?”
My breath hitches because I think I do.
“You,” he says, answering his own question. “You and our pact and, I know it sounds insane, foolish even, but the thought of you at thirty, standing in a white dress, ready to marry me. I was really,reallylooking forward to that.”
I’m crying now. I was hopeful all of my tears had dried up, but I was wrong because big ugly teardrops are falling, and I couldn’t stop them if I tried.
Ben’s laugh is derisive as he continues. “My therapist asked if there was anything in the more immediate future so I made some shit up, but when I went home that night, I started my journals. I had to count backwards to figure out how manymarks I needed and then calculate twelve years into the future to see what number I was working toward.”
He stands, walking toward his bookshelf and pulling one of the moleskins down. He flips open to a page and then hands the journal to me. At the top there’s a month and a year and at the bottom two numbers written out, labeled “days passed” and “days remaining.” But what catches my attention are the rows and rows of tally marks.
“There were four thousand four hundred days between the night we made that pact and the day you turned thirty,” he explains. His voice lowers as he reaches out to brush a tear off of my cheek. “Every single one of those days has been documented in a journal. I’ve been foolishly yours for as long as I can remember, Colette.”
“Why?” I ask, my breath unsteady. “Why did you wait?”
We could have had so much more time together.
His smile is sad. “Do you really think you would have welcomed me with open arms if I had tried to pursue you before now?” He doesn’t give me time to answer before he says, “Five tally marks because I wanted a reminder of you and getting over four thousand seemed a bit excessive. But now it’s five tally marks for five dates with you. Five dates to try to convince you to be mine.” He pauses, taking a deep inhale. “That was my last secret. The last piece of me that I was hiding from you. Now you have all of me, for as long as you want me.”
I don’t know what to say, don’t know how to express what Ben means to me. He knows that, of course he does. He kisses my forehead and it’s tender, full of so much care.
“I want you to go home and think about everything I’ve shared with you. Think about how you want to respond—if you want to respond. And let me know when you’re ready. When you’re sure.” He gives me the smallest tilt of his mouth, a gift. “I’ve waited over a decade for you, I can wait a few more days.”
I nod, mostly because I’m paralyzed with overwhelm, not because I want to leave his side. But I need to collect myself, make sure I can give this man everything he’s so willing to give me.
Ben walks me to his apartment door, our hands threaded together. Everywhere we’re touching feels like it’s on fire, like my body is trying to fuse itself to him. He opens the door and then spots something on the entryway table.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he mutters. “I found this attached to my shoelace when I left your apartment the other day.”
He places something delicately in my open palm.
My missing puzzle piece.
Red
Meet me here at 3pm?
*Red dropped a pin*
Are you going to murder me?
Red
Undecided.
When I turn down the street toward the location Cole shared with me, it does feel slightly murdery. We’re just outside of town where homes sit on a few acres of land instead of right on top of each other like the neighborhoods closer to campus.
My GPS chimes with a helpful “You’ve arrived at your destination!”
My destination appears to be an unlocked and open gate with a long driveway that leads to the quaintest looking home I’ve ever seen. The most surprising thing I see: a For Sale sign staked up by the main road.
Maneuvering my car down the driveway, I realize Cole’s car is also here along with a vehicle I don’t recognize. As soon as I get out of my car, Cole steps out onto the wraparound porch with a white woman that could be my mother’s age. Her brow is furrowed and her arms are crossed under her chest as she nods along to whatever the woman is saying.
The car door slams shut, drawing both of their eyes to me.
Cole lifts her hand in a tentative wave, the gemstone in her ring twinkling in the afternoon sunlight.
I shove my hands in my pockets so I don’t do something absolutely ridiculous, like suck her ring finger into my mouth, and I walk up to meet them on the porch. The older woman holds her hand out in greeting. “Hi, I’m Barbara! It’s nice to finally meet you.”
