Page 85 of When We Had Forever
Memories clamor over one another, mostly involving Michael—the moment I walked up to his car and first saw his face, the time I opened my eyes in that underground cave in Canada. The first time I had him inside me. The night we lay in midnight waves in Hawaii and just talked, every word a thread stitching us together.
But none of those quite measure up.
I clear my throat. “Once, when me and Michael first met, we drove out to this mountaintop observatory. Not too far from here, actually. When we got out, he looked at the sky and said something about how tiny we are, but how our smallness also makes us everlasting. I remember holding his hand while this indescribable feeling came over me.”
Grayson studies my face. “What feeling?”
“Like”—I chew at my lip—“one of those Magic Eye pictures I loved as a kid. The whole world seemed to snap into focus, and life made sense in a way it never had before. I couldfeelhow us standing there was a gift for us alone, forever until the end of time, never to be experienced by anyone else. In that moment, I knew life wasn’t about tomorrow or yesterday, because those aren’t real anyway. It’s just about what we do with our right here, right now.”
He draws a shaky breath.
I do, too. “God, I haven’t felt like that in so long. But I did then, and it was intoxicating, and illuminating, and...and...”
My voice withers in the face of Grayson’s fierce frown.
“Shit,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
I look down. A few tears glisten on the pale green game board. I sit up, scrubbing at my cheeks and making fervent wishes for more wine. “Sorry. It’s just... The truth is, I felt like my whole life was decided right then. And then it turned out so different from what I expected. So very fucking different.”
“I know the feeling,” he says gently.
I nod. I don’t doubt he does. I’ve intentionally avoided questions about Lily all evening, but for a moment, it’s like her ghost is here with us, a silent ship passing in the depths of his gaze.
“Would a hug help?” he says.
I gather my knees to my chest. “No. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Okay.” Skepticism weights his voice. “Just tell me what you need.”
“Some sleep, I think. It’s almost four, anyway.”
He nods, then starts packing everything away.
I watch, struck by how competent he looks just cleaning up a board game. I wonder if his hands move with that same swift confidence when he takes a picture, and if he wore this same determined expression when he photographed that tornado.
“But maybe,” I venture, “you could tuck me in?”
When his fingers still around the stack of yellow hundreds, I rush to clarify.
“I don’t mean in a naked way, just that it would be nice if you laid down with me for a minute. Maybe tell me a story about one of the places you’ve been to.”
“Sure.” He clears his throat, though it doesn’t do much to smooth the roughness there. “I can do that.”
“Thanks. And hey. Looks like you turned out to be a gentleman, after all.”
Long seconds pass. “That’s definitely not the word I would use.”
In my bedroom, I close my door to change into my pajamas, then let Grayson in and crawl under the covers. He flips off the light, plunging us into the freedom of darkness. When he lowers himself onto my bed, the mattress dips, but somehow it feels more like a weight lifting than settling.
I consider scooting against the wall, but after that Monopoly game, I feel closer to him than I have to anyone in a long time.
Screw it, I decide. Life is short.
So I cuddle into his side, nestling my cheek against the hard plane of his chest. I try not to notice how well I fit. I do, however, note the arm that curls around me, the fingers that play shyly with the small of my back.
“Which country do you want to hear about?” he asks.
I wonder whether I’m imagining the quaver in his voice. “How about your favorite? Egypt.”
