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I was going to fall in love with this man. I was already halfway there. And he was going to live where the seasons turned, and I was going to live where they didn’t and somehow we’d still have to try to be on a parallel line.
I could break up with him and suffer. Or I could date him and take what I could. Make memories when I could.
I’d taken recognition for granted my whole life. The way it lights someone up, how it can speak to you without a word across a crowded room. That split second of raw reaction when you’re seen and known. Relief, joy, happiness at locking eyes with someone you were looking for or seeing someone you didn’t expect.
“Normally I wouldn’t believe anything nice someone said to me,� I said quietly. “But it must be true or I wouldn’t have you.�
“I’d like to look back on my life and remember every single thing. But if I don’t, I hope I remember that it was a love story. And that the love story was about you.�
