Page 100 of Love at First Sighting
“In your stalker era.”
“It was government mandated,” he says. “No, I told them I couldn’t have figured any of it out without this girl who issogood at causing problems on purpose. And that I love you a lot, and how I think after all this, I’m going to be okay because I have you.”
“You would have been okay even without me,” I assure him. “But I’m glad we don’t have to find out what that’s like.”
“My dad would have liked you. I think my mom, too.”
“And I’m sure they both would have been proud of you.”
At this, the tears return to his eyes, icy blue coated in a sheen of sunlight. I know he’s tired of mourning and hurting, and tired of asking me to be his shoulder to cry on while he processes all of this, but I don’t mind. Day by day, he asks for less, smiles more, and makes plans for where we go next. We talk about neighborhoods we like, what kind of apartmentwe want to rent, but we don’t get too serious—we’ve got a trip to plan.
“I hope so.”
“They would. You never stopped looking for answers and never gave up. Anyone would be proud of how hard you worked to make things right.” I wipe away his tears. I haven’t had to take care of anyone in a long time, but I’m learning how Carter likes to be cared for. I think in some ways he’s learning, too. He’s big on snuggling, like he always wants to keep me close, like I’ll drift away if he doesn’t. He hates being babied, so I let him do more things on his own now that he’s on his feet again. “Can I say something?”
“To them?”
I nod.
“Knock yourself out.”
I grab his hand again and lean my head on his shoulder. I glance at his parents’ twin headstones and read over the epitaphs. “John, Emily…I’m El, short for Ariel. I’m really sad we never got to meet, but I feel like I already know you in a lot of ways. I hear all about you from Carter and I have to imagine you were pretty great if your kid turned out as amazing as he is.
“I know he did a lot of it himself, and god knows Marcus didn’t leave a positive impression on him, but I think there’s some credit due to you two as well. He’s fantastic, and sometimes I think he doesn’t even know it. He’s smart and sweet and incredibly brave. It’s the first time in my life I feel seen, and the first time I think someone cares about every part of me. Not just the ones that look good. Not just the ones that help them.
“So thank you for making him—”
“Ew,” Carter grimaces.
If he weren’t still recovering, I’d knock him over. “I was trying to say ‘making him great,’ you gross child.”
“Oh…”
“And thank you to the aliens for making our paths cross.”
He laughs under his breath. “There were no aliens.”
I grow quiet. “There were absolutely aliens. I saw them. In the archive. There are aliens, Carter.”
“You need to keep your voice down,” he whispers.
“Oh, come on. No one’s going to believe me. And no one’s going to believe me when I tell them I met you when I saw a UFO and the government sent a hot Man in Black after me.”
Carter purses his lips. “Yeah, we’re going to need to discuss our cover story.”
I give Carter’s hand a squeeze and turn back to the matching headstones. “All this to say, don’t worry. I’ll take good care of him.”
He leans over and presses a kiss to the side of my head with a sniffle before pulling away. He reaches into his jacket pocket and grabs his badge and his keys (to a car he’s selling for parts). For now, we’re using my car, which is freshly out of the shop. He digs a small hole in the cold dirt in front of his dad’s headstone, large enough for his badge to fit in. It glimmers in the sun before he places it down in the hole, along with the folded piece of paper he found inside his hat.
“You sure you don’t want to keep the badge? What if you get pulled over or something? No more get-out-of-jail-free card for you?”
“No,” he breathes. “I think I’m better off leaving this in the past. I don’t want to hang on to it anymore.”
But he hesitates, like he’s not sure if he wants to take thenext step away from the life he’s always known. We’re both doing it, and it scares both of us, but neither of us is doing it alone. Carter pushes the dirt back over the shallow grave for his badge and pats it down to a smooth surface. He wipes his hands on his jeans and kneels in front of me. I clasp his dirty hands and don’t mind the mess.
“With that behind us,” I start, “where to next?”
