“What do you know that I don’t aboutmybest friend?”
“Nothing at all. Let’s get some rest.”
He tries to casually slide under the covers, but I stop him.
“No way. Tell me what’s going on.”
He sighs. “I suppose now is as good a time as ever.”
Gabriel reaches over, opening a drawer in his nightstand and taking out a cream-colored folder. It’s thick. He sets it on the bed between us.
“Open it,” he says.
I look at him. His expression is careful and neutral.
Still skeptical, I open the folder.
The first page is a letter—formal and embossed.
Dear Mrs. Moretti,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Columbia University’s Department of Anthropology's full-degree program beginning spring 2028.
I stop reading. I look up.
“Full ride,” he says. “Tuition, books, everything. I spoke with the department chair and asked her to read some of your writing, the essays you’ve been working on, as well as some stuff from your senior year in high school. She used the phrase ‘unusually perceptive.’ I agreed with her.”
I don’t know what to say. Thankfully, he keeps talking, so I don’t have to say anything.
“This was a team effort,” he adds. “Liza and Sissy helped with the high school information, and Sylvie pitched in getting everything to Columbia. That’s why I was worried she’d spilled—she’s been so excited at the idea of you two going to school together that she’s been on the verge of exploding.”
My hands are shaking. The words on the letter blur as my eyes fill with tears.
“Gabriel—”
“You told me you wanted to go to college, that you wanted to study something that mattered to you. It’s time we make that happen.”
A tear drops onto the letter. Then another.
“You got me into Columbia.”
“You got yourself in. I just filed the paperwork.”
I launch myself at my husband. The letter crumples but I don’t care. I kiss him. I’m laughing and crying all at once. His arms wrap around me and he begins laughing, too.
“Thank you,” I say against his lips. “Thank you so much.”
“You deserve this,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at me. “You deserve the world.”
I grab the letter and hold it to my chest. Outside the window, the city is alive, and full of the kind of possibility I was certain wasn’t meant for people like me.
I was wrong.
“I love you,” I whisper.
“I love you,” he whispers back, “always.”
Still thinking about Thea and Gabriel?
