Page 106 of Winging It with You

What do I say to the man who has felt more like home than any place ever could?

He must sense my inner turmoil, or maybe he just can’t bear to not be touching me any longer, because Theo takes me in his big arms and holds me close. I take a deep breath and commit every note and subtlety of his scent to memory.

“This isn’t goodbye, Asher Bennett,” he says into my temple, his voice soft but filled with so much love. I squeeze him tighter. “We’re going to figure this out. Together.”

“Promise?” I say, craning my neck so I can look him in the eyes.

“Of course. I’m all in.” He kisses me—again and again and again—and I know the second I turn away that I never want to say goodbye to this man. I couldn’t possibly. I know it without any reservations and with judgment as clear as day. Because meeting Theo the way I did was no accident. No logic or rational thought could convince me otherwise.

Sometimes, a life detour comes along when you least expect it.

And if you are brave enough to lean in to it, that little detour—or the right person—can change everything.

Like Theo has.

Like only he could.

Epilogue

Theo

Two months later

Asher Bennett and Theo Fernandez

3440 W. Lake Drive

Chicago, Illinois

“Is that the last of them?” I shout over the mountain of boxes we’ve somehow accumulated.

After hours of arranging our belongings, I’m ready to be done. To officially settle into our new home and start this next chapter for both of us.

I think back to that last time at the airport. The second Asher walked through those airport doors, I had to fight the urge to run after him. Question after question bounced around my skull: What if he changed his mind? Should I have gone with him? What if he had just stayed?

But he had loose ends to tie up. We both did.

So, I went through the motions of my life those first few weeks without him, trying to return to some sense of normalcy.On more than one occasion, I had to remind myself it would all be worth it in the end.

That he was worth it.

We spoke every day. Most days, Asher enthusiastically told me about every detail of his work. We’d argue over who missed the other more and make a running list of the things we wanted to do when we saw each other. We exchanged an infinite number of selfies, both clothed and, well, not, and when someone would tag us in a #Thasher picture, it was a race to see who could send it to the other first.

He usually won.

Nighttime was the hardest.

I had gotten so used to curling myself around Asher, the feeling of his soft skin pressed against mine. The way our curves and edges lined up so seamlessly without even trying. On those nights when I couldn’t sleep, I reminded myself that soon, I’d be able to reach my hand out and feel his waiting.

So now, standing together inourChicago town house, knowing that everything we’ve quietly been waiting for has finally arrived, it’s nearly impossible to contain the excitement that has been building. We spent the first couple of days waiting for our things to arrive, marveling at the view of Lake Michigan and the newness of each other, the novelty of never having to say goodbye again. I’m pretty sure I kissed every inch of Asher’s skin, twice, to ensure I knew every trace of him. Every perfect little detail of the man I loved. We ate Thai food and drank wine—which Asher ordered from that little place in Italy we’d stumbled upon—in our underwear on a thick blanket on the floor listening to legends like Gipsy Kings and the Cranberries and, of course, Ashley Tisdale.

I just might make a fan out of him yet.

But isn’t that what you do when you’re madly in love?

Throw yourself headfirst into each other with everything you’ve got?

Diving headfirst into Asher feels like coming home, and our home, with his things and my things andourthings, has quickly become my favorite place in the world.

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