Page 107 of Ashes of Us

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"Hi," she said, her voice rough with sleep.

"Hi."

"You're staring."

"Yeah."

"It's weird."

"Can't help it." I reached out then, couldn't stop myself, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You're here."

"In my own bed, yeah." But her mouth twitched. It was almost a smile.

"You know what I mean."

She did. I could see it in the way her expression softened, the way her hand came up to cover mine where it rested against her cheek.

"We did this," she said quietly.

"Yeah."

"It's not going to be easy."

"I know."

"I'm still going to be scared sometimes. Still going to doubt. Still going to—" She stopped. Swallowed. "I'm going to mess this up sometimes."

"So will I." I shifted closer, until we were sharing the same breath. "But I told you… I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I'm terrified," she admitted. "But… I promise."

I kissed her then. Soft and slow and careful, like we had all the time in the world. Like we were building something that would last instead of something that would break.

When we pulled apart, she was smiling. It was perfect; real and unguarded and just for me.

"I made you a cake," she said. "It's still in the fridge."

"The birthday cake?"

"Chocolate-espresso. Your favorite." She bit her lip. "I couldn't throw it away."

Something warm and impossible expanded in my chest. "Can I have some?"

"Now?"

"Now."

So we got up. Wrapped ourselves in blankets and padded to her kitchen in bare feet and rumpled clothes. She pulled the white box from the fridge, set it on the counter, and lifted the lid.

"Happy Birthday"written in careful script across perfect frosting.

"It's beautiful," I said.

"It's a week old."

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