Page 63 of You & I, Rewritten

“Turn to page thirty-three,” he whispers against my ear. I slowly open the book, resisting the urge to scour every single page and photograph and turn to the page he indicated.

My heart catches in my throat. In a gorgeous black and white, matte finish, the photograph I took of the Army veteran I had the honor of meeting stares back at me—his eyes telling a story no words could ever do justice. I turn to look back at Graham, unable to string any sort of statement of appreciation together at this moment and instead, just bury my head in his neck.

“What you’ve done is so important and I am so proud to see it all come together like this. Look at me,” he says, gently lifting my chin to meet his gaze. “This book, as well as your father’s, will resonate with so many people. But even if it reaches just one person…just one person who is struggling to overcome whatever challenges life has thrown their way, I want you to look back at all you have done and feel the greatest sense of pride. Because I do, Will…I am in awe of you and the strength you have exhibited through all of this.”

Taking my face in his hands once more, Graham kisses me, more urgently than before. His lips part, so in sync with mine, and I can feel his breathing pick up.He’s shaking.

“I know I’m throwing a lot at you right now, but I actually have one more thing for you.”

“Are you trying to kill me?” I whisper, pressing my forehead against his.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he places something small and hard in my hand.A key.

“Will, my entire world changed the moment you came into it, and if the last couple of months have taught us anything, it’s that life is far too short to spend it wasting whatever time we have by putting off things our hearts know we want.” He leans forward, bringing his lips to mine again with a slow tenderness that sets my soul ablaze. “Please move in with me,” he says between kisses. “You are the first thing I want to see each morning when I wake up and the last thing I want to see as each day ends.”

I’m officially at a loss for words. Is this sudden? Maybe. It’s a step I’ve never taken with someone before, but Graham’s right…lifeisshort and there isn’t anyone I’d want to take that next step with.

Looking into his beautiful eyes and feeling the intensity of this man’s love, I so clearly see a future I’ve always dreamed of—a true partnership filled with passion, laughter, and trust. Someone who challenges me and supports me unconditionally. A beautiful wedding surrounded by our friends and family. Him with our children.

He’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I never knew was within my reach.

* * *

Graham and I pull up to whatever secret location him and Klair have been sneaking off to all week. The two of them, who have become quite inseparable over the last couple of months, have kept me completely in the dark about tonight’s event. While I would give everything to be back home, curled up on the couch with Graham instead of here in this uncomfortable suit, I know that between the two of them, tonight is going to be unforgettable.

Klair and Dean are waiting for us at the entrance. She’s dressed in a striking black jumpsuit with her hair swept to one side, and Dean looks incredibly sophisticated in his charcoal suit. They ooze Old Hollywood glamor and could not complement one another more if they tried.

“Get over here,” she says, pulling me into a long hug. “I love you forever, Will Cowen…never forget that.” She’s been my rock throughout this entire ordeal. I truly don’t know how I would have been able to move forward without her.

“I love you right back, Klair Thompson.”

They lead me through a pair of unremarkable doors that blend seamlessly into the windowless building they belong to. Graham takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You ready?”

I take a deep inhale to steady myself. “No, but we might as well go in anyway.”

We find ourselves in the midst of an intimate gallery exhibit—soft music accompanies the even softer lighting, tables for seating intertwined with those for serving small bites and drinks, and neat stacks of both my father’s book and the coffee-table book seem to be everywhere. But what really takes my breath away, literally stopping me in my tracks, are the larger-than-life portraits I’ve spent months curating and memorizing that adorn every wall.

It’s equal parts exquisite and unnerving and I couldn’t love it more.

“You guys…this is stunning,” I say, turning to see all three of them watching me, anxiously awaiting my reaction to their hard work.

“Yeah?” Graham asks quietly, running a hand through his hair.

The only thing I can do is nod. Being here and seeing it all makes this all finally feel real, and while that realization causes my eyes to sting, my heart overflows with happiness and appreciation for everyone who had a hand in planning this. People have begun mingling and admiring the photographs, their passionate enthusiasm brings the entire venue to life. I see Mitch and Camila across the room, who both give me a warm smile and my parents are deep in conversation with one another in front of a portrait of a female Air Force veteran.

My mother turns for the briefest of moments and I can see the tears brimming in her eyes. Even though she is happily married to my dad and has been for years, my biological father’s death has impacted her in a way neither of us imagined. He was her first love, and since he passed, she’s been opening up to me more about their early years together. As hard as it was to picture them young and happily in love, it’s nice to think about them together in a different light…even if it was short-lived.

Klair is at my side, gently tugging on my elbow. “Let’s head over this way…it’s about to start.”

Without questioning her, I follow as she leads the four of us toward where Graham’s parents are standing.

“Ay cariño…come here, sweetheart. It’s beentoolong,” Camila says, wrapping me in her warm embrace. She’s elegantly dressed in a cream, off the shoulder dress, with her dark hair carefully styled in a low bun. Mitch pats me on the back as he passes, his classic handsomeness accentuated by the sleek, black suit he’s wearing.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I just want to take a quick moment of your time,” Mitch says, speaking into a microphone that’s appeared out of thin air. His commanding voice fills the room as the murmurs of tonight’s attendees die down. “First and foremost, on behalf of the entire Austin Publishing House family, I want to thank you all for attending this truly one-of-a-kind event. When you’ve hosted as many of these things as I have, you think you’d be used to all ofthisby now.” A quiet laughter ripples through the crowd.

“But I have to say that in all my years in this industry…I don’t think I’ve ever been a part of something quite this special.” Despite his natural ability to captivate any crowd, Mitch’s tone is especially somber this evening. Next to me, Graham reaches for my hand, giving it another squeeze.Three times.I steal a glance in his direction, and he gives me a reassuring smile as I mouth,I love you, too.

“For those of you who don’t know, tonight we are here to celebrate and honor two significant works of art that our team was fortunate to work on. The debut novelI Should Have Told You Thenby the late Scott Russell and the coffee-table bookNo Longer Invisiblecurated by the one and only Will Cowen are both officially out in the world today. While they are sold separately, these two masterful contributions to the literary world are deeply intertwined…” Mitch looks directly at me, his expression soft and filled with a gentle kindness. “…and deeply important to all of us here at APH.”

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