Page 146 of From Air

“Who wrote in permanent marker on the bottom of my shoes?”

“I’ll get to that.” I sit on the window ledge.

She frowns at the writing on her shoes for a few more seconds before dropping them onto her bag and giving me her full attention. She’s the best sight in the world, even in frayed denim shorts and a wrinkled white T-shirt. Not being with her has felt like a long trip from home.

“Is it ...” My cowardly gaze drifts to my feet, and my voice loses momentum. “Is it okay if I need you? Or is it too late?”

She doesn’t answer, so I’m forced to look at her.

Shaking her head, she sits on the end of the bed. “No. I’m not what you need.”

God, she fucking slays me. “Why?”

“Because I require more than you have to give. And I know this because it’s been six months, and Will stole my shoes to get us in the same room. That’s not fate. It’s manipulation.”

“Maybe it’s fate.”

She scoffs. “You don’t believe in fate.”

“You don’t know what I believe. And I know this becauseIdon’t know what I believe anymore. But I know sometimes you need to step back and distance yourself from the situation. Sometimes, you need to walk away to gain perspective and see things clearly.”

“Are you telling me you’ve had a recent moment of clarity?”

“Yes,” I say with unwavering confidence.

Her expression bleeds with uncertainty.

I shrug. “What do you need?” I’m dying. Myneedto touch her has me in knots, a suffocating rope around my neck while the ground beneath me begins to crumble. I rub my hands along my jeans.

She eyes my fidgety hands. “Everything,” she whispers.

“Everything,” I echo, nodding several times before standing. “Okay.”

She shakes her head as I take a step toward her. “If you touch me ...”

I stop. “Then what?”

Her head continues to shake while emotion builds in her eyes. “Then you’d better be ready to accept all of me.”

Again, I echo her, “All of you.” Then I take another step.

She swallows hard and bats away the first tear. “You’d better be ready to give meeverything.”

“Everything.”

“No. You can’t just repeat my words. You have to know whateverythingis.”

I shrug. “It’s everything.”

She tips up her chin, so brave and strong—so beautiful. And she’s everything I’ve convinced myself I don’t deserve.

But dammit, I want her anyway.

“Everythingis a wedding where you cry when you see me in my dress for the first time. And it’s supporting my career as much as I support yours. It’s digging my car out of the snow and doing all the dishes when I bake for you. It’s not outrunning me on my skateboard.”

I can’t hide my grin as I take another step.

She holds out a flat hand and shakes her head. “It’s a trip to the urologist to reverse your vasectomy.”

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