I look at his face, and I think about the keychain on his keys for five years.The Timesreview he saved, the shows he read every word about, and the grandmother who made him waltz and write letters and apologize without caveats, and the bridge that will look like two harps.
And… this.
I think about all of it.
“Griff?”
“Piper,” he says.
“Thank you,” I whisper, before he dips and kisses me.
I can feel the three days sitting at the edge of the good thing, waiting. It hasn’t gone anywhere. It’s going to be there tomorrow and the day after, and at the end of the road when we have to turn around and face it.
But not tonight.
Tonight, there’s music coming over the ridge, I’m going to wear a yellow dress, and he remembered.
Thirty-Six
Griffin
Piper has absolutely no intention of helping.
None.
I’m hauling gear out of the trunk like a pack mule, and she’s sitting sideways in the passenger seat, legs crossed, her yellow dress glittering in the sun, applying glitter and rhinestones to her cheekbones as if she’s getting ready for battle.
The glitter, apparently, is more important than the shelter that keeps us alive.
“Pipes,” I say, wrestling the tent bag out from under her shopping haul. “You planning to help anytime soon?”
She doesn’t look up. “Iamhelping.”
“By bedazzling your face?”
“Yes.” She taps her cheek with the tiny stick-on star.
I stare at her. She continues without remorse.
“Also, I don’t trust myself with poles. You saw me at the fair. I get competitive, and things break.”
I snort and drop the tent with a thud. “Pretty sure glitter won’t keep the rain out.”
She waves a hand, showering the air with sparkle.
Jesus Christ.
I don’t even bother arguing. I unzip the tent bag and start laying everything out.
Behind me, I hear Piper humming to herself.
I glance back. She’s now added tiny gold stars above her eyebrows.
The woman is glowing like a disco ball.
“You done?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I’m making art.”
