Page 48 of Exposed

There was a smear down the side of my painted cheek, making it look like I was crying.

“You really gotta say something. Because I’m kinda freaking out.”

“Matt…this is…” my voice trailed off. “This is…”

“A lot.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I know.”

I shook my head. “No. I mean, yeah, it’s a lot. But I love it. I love you.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up.

“You painted. You paintedme.” I stared at all the stacked canvases. “I didn’t realize you were so good at it.”

He laughed. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“No.” I couldn’t stop smiling. The flowers on my tombstone. Him coaching at Empire High. The yellow kitchen. These painting. “I believe you. I believe you didn’t forget.”

“You’re unforgettable, Brooklyn.”

God, how had I ever not loved him? How had I so easily believed my father’s lies? I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward my bedroom. I let go of his hand as he sat down on the edge of my bed. He probably thought I was about to climb onto his lap.

Instead, I knelt down in front of one of my old boxes. I pulled out a smaller box that had all the notes he’d ever written me. I handed it to him.

“I didn’t forget either. Even though I tried. I kept all this stuff. I…I never stopped loving you. And it hurts me to say that. Because…well…you know why. And I believe you never forgot about me. But I still don’t know if we can move forward. Because I need you to not be mad at the life I had without you. I want to be able to talk about Miller to my son. I don’t want him to forget him.Idon’t want to forget him. You’ll have to coexist with him in my life. It’s the only way I know how to keep going.”

Matt wasn’t looking at me. He was reading the old notes. Mostly of him demanding I meet him in the auditorium.

“Matt?”

He looked up at me. “You kept these all these years?”

“Not just that.” I grabbed his varsity jacket out of the box too. And some of the pictures my father had brought me. “These were the only pictures of you I had. My dad got them somehow.” I handed them to him.

He stared at the Untouchables being happy again. Of him looking happy with other girls. Even though he hadn’t been. He sighed and ran his hand down his face. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay?”

“It’s not going to be easy for me, Brooklyn. You talking about Miller. Knowing why sometimes you look so sad. But I do understand. I know you don’t think I grieved correctly. But I was dying inside. I…”

“I know. I know you know how I feel. And I shouldn’t have said you didn’t.”

He nodded. “And I’d never want your son to forget his father. But Brooklyn…I want to be part of his life. I don’t know how that’ll work. But we’ll figure it out. Together. I’m done living in the past. I want to move forward. Let’s move forward.”

I straddled him on the bed. “You swear you don’t hate me?”

“Never.”

“Nunca,” I said.

He smiled at me. “Nunca.”

I smiled back as I breathed him in. “Cinnamon.”

“What?”

“I also started baking. That was my job. I brought baked goods to a local restaurant, where Miller was the chef. And I didn’t even realize it until I saw you again…but…I think I did it because it made me feel close to you. Even though I’d let you go. It smelled like home. Matt, you smell like home.”

He cradled my face in his hands. “Let’s get married.”

---