Page 102 of Cruising

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” I say with a laugh, wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand.

Nolan cradles my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, his eyes searching mine.

“I spent my twenties bottling up my emotions and keeping a tight leash on the things I’ve wanted out of my adult life,” I explain. “Now, things finally feel like they’re on track. I finally feel like I belong somewhere. So, why am I crying in the middle of the damn airport?”

Nolan’s expression changes, his concern giving way to something closely resembling mirth.

“Oh, babe, I think we call those ‘happy tears,’” he says, and I groan. “Come on, let’s find you one of your smutty little books and we’ll grab some snacks for the plane. How does that sound?”

I lean my head into his chest and sniffle.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect, actually.”

As Nolan leads me toward the airport bookstore, I glance up and drink him in.

His kind eyes are a window into his even kinder heart, and the easy way he smiles—not just at or for me, but for everyone and everything else—is a product of his laid-back outlook on life.

Heis the sunshine I had been missing for so long, and it dawns on me: that’s the reason why I was crying. Because at some point, every storm needs to finally let loose the rain that’s been building in its dark, gray clouds.

To make room for something brighter.

Something bolder.

And maybe, if I’m lucky, something better than I’ve ever dreamed of.