Page 95 of 32 Days in May

Tears are prickling at my eyes. I don’t cry. I won’t cry. “Fuck that. I don’t want better. What’s better than you?”

“Exactly, see?” He lets out a soft laugh from the back of his throat, bringing his thumb up to swipe quickly at my cheek. “It fucking hurts to hear someone you love ripping themselves apart. I want you, okay? Every version of you, and I am so fucking mad at myself that I had to almost lose you in order to see that. The moment I walked out on you, I knew I should have turned around, but . . . God, there’s no excuse. I’m just sorry.” He goes quiet for a moment. His thumb paints small circles around my kneecap. “If you don’t want me, for whatever reason, okay. But don’t just push me away because of that one moment—because I accidentally validated this idea you have of how I see you.”

I do. I push his hand away, lumbering to my feet. “You want a version of me that doesn’t exist. You want the person I was in Rome.”

But Marco’s faster than me, rising and following me across the room. “Don’t tell me what I want, Nadia.”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Marco.” I turn and press a quaking finger into my chest. “I know exactly what I want. What I want is you. But this is how I am, and what if you decide it’s boring? What if next time you see how fragile I am, how really fragile I am, you want to leave?” A single, hot tear falls from my eye, crashing onto the floor between us. “I won’t be able to take it.”

Marco locks his gaze on mine, chest rising and falling as his breath comes in ragged tears. He steps closer to me, his fingers glancing along my jaw; his lips part as his gaze moves over my features. “God, I am so fucking in love with you.”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

“What about what I did?” I whisper. “I am not the woman you’ve been spending time with, Marco.” My voice cracks on his name. I open my eyes. “I-I need a fucking kidney.”

My last big reveal. Ta-da.

His eyebrows snap together. Marco’s mouth opens, then closes. His hands fall back to his sides, and for a second, I’m terrified I actually did it—I’ve completely scared him away. “You need a kidney?”

“Not right now. But one day, yes, I might need a kidney. I may cut off all my hair because I’m too sick to brush it. I’ll probably never, ever be sexy in Rome again. But you will always be you.”

Marco chews his lip. Then, he reaches for my crossed arms, for my hands buried underneath. “I’ll brush your hair,” he says. I want to pull away, but before I can, he curls his fingers around mine and brings our hands to rest over his heart. His hammering heart. “I’ll help you out of bed. Fuck, I can give you a kidney. I just want you, Nadia. I don’t care about Rome or LA or New York or Evergreen. I’ll go wherever you need me. I want to wake up at your side and know you—whatever version of you—are going to be there. I love you.”

I love you, too. For days, it’s been my only consistent thought. Instead, I whisper, “You’re making this so, so hard.”

“Good.” With his free hand, he finds my lower back and gently eases me to him. “You will not leave me standing alone in the place where I first realized I love you.” His eyes are burning into me, holding me. Daring me to keep lying when he knows—I know—all my defenses are down. “That is not how our story ends, okay? So, say it. Tell me what you want.”

I pull in a shaky rush of breath. “You.” And then, I crumble into his chest. Finally, he holds me.

“Marco?”

It’s the first thing I say when I come out of my deep sleep. Through the window I can make out the moon in the dark, cloudless sky. I feel alone in my bed. I’m in a shirt I don’t recognize. Fear grabs me in the chest. “Marco?” I say again, louder.

A shadow beside me stirs. “I’m here,” he says, rolling toward me. A heavy, warm arm circles my head. A pair of lips rests against my temple and every part of me relaxes.

“You’re real?” I grumble.

“Yes.” He laughs, warm breath on my ear, his lips in my hair. “I’m flesh and bones.”

“Can we go back to Evergreen?”

“We’re already here,” he assures me. “You’re home now.”

“Did I take my medicine?” I ask through a yawn, already falling back into the grip of sleep.

“Mmm-hmm.” His fingers trace a lazy pattern over my shoulder. “You took your medicine. We called Liv. You texted your mom. You’re all good; go back to sleep.”

“You sure?” I manage, words lazy on my tongue. The moon is just a blur now. There’s a lightness in my chest, a calmness that has reached my bones.

“Promise,” he whispers. I feel the sheet move up around my shoulders, his bare chest against my back. The warmth of his thighs around mine. Then, I fall back asleep.

Thursday, May 32

“Tell me about your dad.” This is objectively the least sexy thing someone can say to a person they just had sex with, but I do it anyway.

“Oh boy.” Marco stretches his arms, bringing them back down to rest behind his head. “Yorgos Antoniou. What a guy. He’s where I get all my most charming personality quirks.”

I roll up onto my side, propping my head up in my hand. “Like your obsession with minor league baseball?”