Page 109 of The Storm

“I’ll get a job,” he finally says. “At a restaurant. A good one. Work my way up.”

It feels almost final when he lays it out like this. And there’s no mention of… Well. Me. My shoulders slump involuntarily.

You should have prepared yourself for this. You should have seen it coming.

“But,” he says in a measured tone, “that’s about the only plan I have. And a lot of the details still need hammering out.”

I swallow hard, my heart picking up a wild rhythm of hope.

The first rays of the sun paint the sky and the world around us a silvery blue that slowly starts to transform into pale pink with the slightest hints of fiery orange.

I blow out a breath.

“Where’s the ideal place for that?” I ask.

He shrugs. “A big city. Somewhere with great food. New York. Chicago. New Orleans. Houston. There’s plenty of those to go around.”

I nod slowly, then turn my head and find him already looking at me.

“Ask me to go with you,” I say.

I’m supposed to start my job in Boston in September. I halfheartedly applied to colleges when everybody else did, and I got my acceptance letters, but then when it came time to make a decision, I just didn’t. The bottom line is, I have no idea what I want to do with my life, so I’m taking a year off to try and figure things out. My aunt offered me a bartending gig at the country club she manages, and with nothing else on my plate, I figured why not.

I can be a bartender anywhere. I can do anything anywhere. Just as long as it’s with him.

I wait.

He’s silent.

Still silent.

More silence.

My heart sinks, and I turn my eyes away.

He squeezes my fingers.

I close my eyes and prepare myself for what’s to come.

“Blue,” he says softly.

I nod, eyes still closed, gathering myself.

“Come with me,” he says.

I snap my head toward him and stare. I’m not sure I heard him correctly.

“Really?” It comes out sounding so pathetic, but I don’t care right now.

“Come with me,” he says again. He drags his hand over his face and laughs almost as if in disbelief. “Come with me,” he says for the third time.

I laugh and nod and kiss him, and he laughs too. He cradles my face, caressing my cheeks with his thumbs.

“This feels like a good time to tell you that I love you,” he says, because apparently you can already have everything you want and then have even more piled on top, and is it possible to be too happy?

“Do you?” I ask, voice trembling, heart shaking, pulse pounding.

He kisses me again, still holding my face. I squeeze his wrists to make sure I’m still awake and this isn’t just a dream.