Page 18 of Wish For Me

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“I wouldn’t say I always—” I cut off when she arches an eyebrow. “Okay, I totally do.”

I’m big on souvenirs, bringing something home to remember the trip or outing. Combine that with the fact I never throw anything remotely sentimental away, and I’m left with two full drawers of t-shirts—plus a bin in the closet. Everly is forever telling me to get rid of some of them, but I can’t bring myself to do it.

“Anyhow,” she says, smoothing the quilt with one hand. “I know that you like to have keepsakes of happy times. But you don’t even wear the majority of those shirts! Which means they’re just sitting there in a drawer or a box where you can’t even see them.” She looks up at me, expression nervous. “So, uh, I thought I’d make them into a blanket for you. Then you can at least enjoy them.”

There’s a weird lump in my throat and I have to clear it a few times before I can speak. “Everly.”

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She hurries on, like she thinks I’m going to be mad about this. “A few of these are mine, too. Like this one, it’s the tour shirt for Tahoe Rocks, that festival my dad and uncles did in Lake Tahoe?”

“The night we met.”

“Right.” She points to another square. “And this one is from the zoo, where you risked your life to save me from the kangaroo.”

I chuckle at that, but the sound dies as I look over the quilt, the lump in my throat getting thicker and thicker. There’s a shirt from my college cross country team. A bar in Miami where we went on vacation the first season of her reality show. My uncle’s tour boat where Leo and I worked one summer. Several shirts from our many, many trips to Disneyland.

“What’s this?” I ask in that same thick, husky voice, pointing at a striped square that looks like it’s made out of a different kind of fabric.

“It’s from the receiving blankets Zayne and Ravi came home from the hospital in,” she says, and my eyes start to sting. I can picture my nephews so clearly on those days, impossibly small and sweet and soft. “Nisha gave them to me.”

She points to another square, this one more faded. “This is from your receiving blanket and this one is Nisha’s.” She pauses then points to the one next to it. “And this is from Ari’s.”

Ari. My big brother who died when I was seven. I spent too many years trying not to think about him, about that tragedy and what it did to my family. It wasn’t until Everly that I finally managed to start talking about him again, to let myself feel the loss and work through it.

“You’re not saying anything,” Everly says uncertainly. “Is it too much? Are you upset I used the shirts? I didn’t mean—oh!”

Her voice cuts off in a rush of air when I pull her to my chest, squeezing her tight until neither of us can breathe.

“I love you so much,” I tell her, not bothering to stem the tears pricking my eyes. Everly knows I’m a giant sap—and she loves me anyway. Loves me enough to do something like this. “God, Everly. This is amazing. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she manages to squeak out, and I force myself to loosen my hold. “I’m so excited to marry you, Bodhi Lakra. I just wanted to do something to show you that.”

This girl. This amazing, beautiful, kind, loving girl. How in the hell am I supposed to break her heart? I can’t tell her that our wedding is going to be anything less than perfect. She deserves perfection. She deserves the whole world.

“Thank you,” I tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love this so much.”

She grins at me as she pulls back, the sight of that gorgeous smile hitting me straight in the chest. I’ll never understand how I got lucky enough to keep her forever.

“Merry Christmas, Bodhi.”