…But that doesn’t hold a candle to what I feel now. I still think about you. Every day. I wonder what you are doing. I wonder if you have kicked all your blankets off your side of the bed again and woken up cold. I wonder if you are so absorbed in work that you forgot to eat dinner again. I worry that your headaches might be coming back or that you fell asleep with your face in your laptop again. I look up at the moon every night—and the stars. And I wonder if you are looking up at them, too.

Dear Adam,

In less than two days, I’ll be looking into your eyes again and I write this with a shaky hand, wondering what I’ll see there…will those beautiful dark eyes be windows, or mirrors, or doors locked and shut tight to me?

I’m scared. I looked up at the sky tonight and I saw a shooting star cross over the constellation of Draco. That’s a sign, right? A good sign? I made a wish but of course I can’t tell you what it is. But that wish is my hope. All my hope wrapped up in that one little instant of burning meteorite. It reminded me of this quote…

“The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks. They are all fire and every one doth shine.”

–Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 1

(Don’t be too impressed. I had to Google that…)

Those sparks are like my hope right now. Unnumbered. All fire. And I pray that you still have hope too.

I read for hours, unable to put it down, and when I finished, I flipped back through the pages—back through her sketch recreating the shooting star through the constellation of Draco. Back through collages, articles printed out and glued into the pages, her list of quotes from our favorite movies and TV shows. Back to her new bucket list.

And back to the last few lines of that last entry, written just hours before she’d wrapped up the journal and handed it to me.

…And so I have forgiven myself for what I once believed was unforgivable, but I give myself permission to be sad about that loss sometimes…

I closed my eyes and slept. And for the first time, I didn’t dream of her. Or at least I didn’t remember it if I did. She was no longer a ghost, a phantom of guilt that tormented my conscience. She was flesh and blood and real. And she was my future.

In the morning, when I woke up and checked my phone, I found a text message waiting for me… a special alert I’d set up from inside the game. Four simple words and I knew who they were from.

I choose us. Forever.

***

Just before sunset by the peaceful rocks overlooking the tide pools at historical Crystal Cove Beach, my Uncle Peter married Emilia’s mom, Kim. They held hands and said informal vows to each other but the ceremony only lasted minutes. We quickly congratulated them and sent them off to spend their first evening alone as a married couple.

But all through that ceremony, I could hardly concentrate on my uncle’s happy turn of events because I couldn’t take my eyes off the beautiful woman standing at the bride’s shoulder. The wind ruffled her short, dark hair. Her skin glowed, radiant in the golden sunlight. She wouldn’t stop smiling and in that lace-edged white sundress, she looked like an angel.

But she wasn’t a mere angel. Vibrant, full of life and strength from all that she’d overcome. She was a goddess.

And I do believe that she was just as unfocused on the wedding as I was, because she held the bride’s tiny bouquet, smelled it often and stole glances at me like a shy schoolgirl in the back of class.

I’m sure she was just as overjoyed about her mom’s happiness as I was for Peter’s but it was hard to concentrate on them when we’d had no chance whatsoever to talk. The two of us. Alone. And we had so many important things to say.

Chapter Forty-Three

Mia

I lingered on the rocks after that short, humble ceremony. The family had spent time together on the beach and they were now following the happy couple back to the parking lot. But, having hugged, kissed and congratulated my mom already, I stayed behind and stooped, looking into the tidal pools at the anemones and hermit crabs, relishing a little quiet time to myself and hoping that Adam would wander back to talk to me.

I didn’t have to hope it because shortly, I became aware that he’d never moved more than a few feet from me. He stood nearby, his hands in his pockets, looking out over the ocean and hovering near me like a sentry. I glanced up at him, squinting against the dying sun. “Hey.”

He pulled his eyes away and looked at me, smiling. “Hey, cousin.”

I made a face. “Do not ever call me that again. That is beyond gross.”

He chuckled, took a few steps toward me until he was standing beside me. I stood and climbed on top of the group of rocks next to us. “Someone said they saw a pod of whales swimming around out there earlier. I’ve been looking and looking and haven’t seen anything.”