“Sera.” His voice is deep with pleasure.
“Luke,” I whisper into his ear.
*
After, Luke stays on top of me, showering my face with kisses until I can’t stop giggling. Then he pulls away, rolling over onto his back, panting like he’s just sprinted the bases after hitting a home run. I look over at him, my heart racing but holding strong. He laces his fingers through mine. The light from the movie flickers over us. I rest my head on Luke’s chest and listen to his heartbeat, a familiar, steady rhythm, like the ocean pulling away and rejoining the shore.
Chapter Thirty
Luke
I hadn’t meant for us to have sex, though I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t been in the back of my mind as I set up Frappie’s. Mostly I just want to see Sera happy, like she is right now, tucked next to me beneath the blanket, going on and on about the colors in the film and wondering what Paris would look like in the rain. Her skin is cool to the touch but heating me up all the same.
When the movie ends, Amélie getting her own love story after helping everyone else, I reach for my phone and start another one.Jeux d’enfants.All I know is that it’s about childhood friends falling in love. It’s all in French again, and I wasn’t able to find the subtitles, so we’re a little lost. Neither Sera nor I are really paying attention, though. Her hands are wandering across my chest, sending little shocks of electricity coursing through me. I turn on my side and trace her cheek, her nose, her eyebrows as she wiggles them at me and laughs. I dip my hand lower and follow her collarbone, the thin line of her scar,where she was opened up and gifted me my life. I press my palm to her chest and feel her heart beat as though everything is fine, keeping the secret of her time left from us. I’d call EBE a traitor, but Sera wouldn’t like that.
“She’s gotten us this far, hasn’t she?” she asks, like she’s reading my mind.
I kiss her chest and whisper a thank-you and silently beg her to hold out because I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it if she doesn’t.
We ignore the movie and mold ourselves together again. I feel the nostalgia creeping in over everything. Her diagnosis is like a high-pitched ringing in my ears, always there, always threatening to drown all the goodness out. I try to just stay present with her eyes holding mine, her lips on my ear telling me that everything is perfect.
And I believe it when she says it, sure that nothing has ever felt so good, so right in the universe as it does right now. Desperate for her to stay, for it all to stay just like this, like one long, perfect kiss.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sera
August begins to slip away. The summer crowd thins and the heat peaks. Maddy and I plan a big beach party for my birthday. It’s the night before Luke goes to his orientation, but that morning I wake up feeling nauseous and slow. The idea of trekking out to Thirds for the whole afternoon and evening is too daunting. I text Maddy to cancel while I nibble on some dry toast in my room, brought up on a tray by my dad, who hovers and fusses. I lean back into my pillows and sigh. The last few days have been like this.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Dad says, sitting on the edge of my bed. “Maybe we could do something small here at the house? Just a few people? I’ll make my famous grilled pizza?”
“That sounds great, Dad. Thanks.”
He stands up again and comes to kiss me on the top of my head.
“It won’t be the same here without you. If—if we don’t find you a new heart.” His voice is clear, and I’m glad. We’ve beenworking on this, saying what we feel when we feel it. My therapist agreed it would be good for everyone, but especially me, to know how much I’m loved but also to have support in the choices I’ve made.
“I’ll work on haunting the place, but only if it comes to that,” I say. He laughs.
“I’ll go over and tell Luke and his family about pizza night. I’m sure the boys would like to come too.”
I thank him and text Maddy the plan, asking her not to bring anyone else. I spend the day napping and wake up to the sounds of someone in my room. I open my eyes and find Luke on the window bench, sketch pad in his lap.
“Are you drawing me?” I ask, both delighted and embarrassed. He looks up at me, caught. I managed to shower earlier before I climbed back into bed, so I don’t smell, but I can’t look pretty.
“Getting you back for the boat portraits,” he says with a shrug, then puts the pad down and slides into my bed with me. I snuggle into his chest and press my ear to his heart. The cold I’ve been feeling in my bones ebbs away. I listen to the strong regular beats, and with each one I make a wish for him: to make friends at school, to draw more, to save Harborside, to help his brothers through those awkward teen years, to find love again and again, to travel and see the world, to be a husband and a father and an uncle, and to grow old and cranky and silver with knowledge and time. I want him to share how he sees the world with as many people as he can—they’ll all be better for it. I weave myself into these imagined moments and hope he’ll always feel me with him when his heart races withjoy. The pieces of me stitched into him, holding him here in the universe for as long as it takes to live a good, long life.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, playing with my bangs.
“Your future.”
He swallows, and his heart picks up.
“Our future,” I lie, like it’s a spell to break his sadness.
Adam and Oliver are sent up to get us a few minutes later. Adam catapults himself onto the foot of my bed.
“Wake up! Time for pizza!” he shouts, somehow getting tangled in the blankets.
