Page 41 of Big Package

“When I was a kid, people left because they could,” I said. “Later, people left because they died. After a while, it got easier not to give anybody enough room to leave a hole.”

She came closer. “I can’t promise I’ll never hurt you. You can’t promise me that either.”

“No.” I made myself hold her gaze. “But I can promise I won’t make decisions for both of us and call it protecting you. I’ll ask.”

She let out a breath. “Same.”

Her hand slipped into mine. “I’m still mad at you.”

“That’s fair.”

“And if you ever tell me I don’t know what I want again, I’ll remind you of this conversation in painful detail.”

“Figured.”

She looked toward the wishing tree. “I accidentally saw your wish. It fell off the tree.”

“Sure it did.”

“I promise I didn’t read it on purpose.” She stared at me, her eyes wide. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” The truth was that I did.

She tugged me to the tree, where my tag hung next to hers. “You wished for me.”

There wasn’t much point denying it now. “I did, Em. I wished for you.”

She unfolded her own.

Something I choose myself.

I read it twice. “You chose me?”

Her eyes went bright. “I’m trying to.”

That was better than anything else she could have said. I touched the side of her face. “I choose you too.”

“Even though I talk too much?”

“Especially because of that.”

She laughed and rose onto her toes, and I met her halfway. The kiss was softer than the others, with no fear that if I stopped, something would disappear. I let myself have the moment without looking for the end of it.

“So what happens now?” she asked against my chest.

“Tomorrow, I help you clean this place up. Then Christmas. Then dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“I want to take you on an actual date.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“I’m trying to.”

She cupped my cheeks in her hands. “You’re adorable.”

“Don’t ruin it.”