He slowly wrapped it around my eyes, tying it tight in the back. The next thing I knew I was on my back, the skirt of my dress bunched around my waist.
His lips found my clit and he sucked hard.
I reached down, my fingers getting tangled in his hair. God, this felt a lot more like my birthday than his.
***
We stayed in the truck all day, watching the sun set and the stars light up the sky. Normally on nights like this we’d sit on the deck, our feet dangling in the water. Those nights were perfect. But this was even better. I never wanted to move from this spot.
My head was on Miller’s lap and we were both laying there staring at the stars. His fingers absentmindedly ran through my hair.
“Do you think anyone from our past ever thinks about us still?” I asked.
His fingers stilled.
Shit. I knew where his mind had just gone. And that wasn’t even what I’d meant. “I think about Kennedy sometimes,” I said quickly, ending the awkward silence in the air. “And Mrs. Alcaraz. I wonder how they’re doing. If Kennedy went to a fancy art school. If she pursued photography.” I knew she and I fought before I left. But she’d been my best friend. I desperately hoped she was happy. That she’d found everything she wanted in life. “And I wonder if Mrs. Alcaraz still lives in the same apartment.” Mrs. Alcaraz was like a surrogate mother to me. I missed her cooking and her hugs. I turned so I could face Miller.
But his eyes were still trained on the sky. “I can find out. If you want me to.”
I swallowed hard. A part of me did want to know. I wanted to know all of it. Was my dad healthy now that he had my kidney? Did Isabella get what she secretly wanted and end up with Matt? Did she ever really get the help she needed or was it just a lie my dad told? Did Felix follow in his parent’s footsteps after all? Was Rob still cracking jokes? Did James still frown more than he smiled? I hoped not. I hoped they were all happy. Even Matt. I hoped he wasn’t plagued by thoughts of me. Although, I was certain he’d stopped thinking about me years ago. Slowly over time I thought about him less and less too. I never belonged in his world. In any of their worlds. This right here? This was me. This was where I was supposed to be. “No. It’s better just believing they all lived happily ever after. Like me.”
Miller propped himself up on his elbows so he could look down at me. “Is that really how you feel?”
“Yes. I wake up smiling every morning.” At least when I didn’t have nightmares. “And I go to bed smiling every night. And I get to spend all day with you. My very own prince charming.”
He smiled. But he didn’t say anything at all. I could tell what he was thinking though. I’d gotten very good at reading his silence. He reached out and lightly traced my jawline with his index finger. Tonight he was thinking about all the questions he couldn’t ask me. The questions we’d stopped talking about over the years.
I’d told him that I’d tell him when I was ready. “Thank you for loving me,” I said. “Even though sometimes I make it hard.”
His fingers dipped down my neck, tracing my clavicle. “Loving you is easy.”
Loving him was easy too. Like we just fit perfectly together. We lived in a bubble. A perfect bubble that I loved. Yes, sometimes I wondered how the people I left behind were. But I never wanted to go back. Never. “I’ve been thinking.”
He didn’t say a word.
I slowly sat up and stared at the stars. We’re written in the stars. That’s what Miller had said. I straddled him, locking my arms behind his neck.
His hands settled on my waist.
“I did some research,” I said. “And…it would be really hard to get married with our fake IDs.”
He nodded. I think it’s what he expected. For me to tell him I wasn’t ready. Again.
But that wasn’t what I was saying. “The dead couple whose identity we took…they were married. I don’t think you’ve ever seen my ID. But I have the same last name as you already. Thompson. Jane and George Thompson. We’re already married.”
“Are we?” He smiled, but it looked sad.
“Mhm.”
“Jane and George are married. But we’re not Jane and George Thompson. Brooklyn, I want you to take my last name.”
“Won’t it be weird for my last name to be Miller? Since I call you Miller?”
“Do you think it would be weird for your last name to be Miller?”
I was a Sanders. I’d thought about being a Caldwell. I’d been forced to be a Pruitt for a short time. “Brooklyn Miller. It feels more meaningful than anything else. Especially since I call you Miller.”
His eyes locked with mine.
“I like the sound of it.”
“You do?”
“I do.” I dropped my forehead to his. “I think I’m almost ready.”
He exhaled slowly and I breathed him in. I’d never felt this close to anybody. I knew that. My heart knew it. And I was pretty sure my head did too. “Do you ever still think about going to college?”
He pulled his head back so he could look at me. “I’m really happy exactly where I am. I wouldn’t change a thing. Except for your last name.”
I smiled down at him.
“What about you?” he asked. “Do you think of going to school?”
“No.” What would I even do with a college degree? I was already doing what made me happy. I got to bake every day. I got to grow fresh vegetables in the garden. Swim in the lake in the spring and summer. Dance the night away with Miller. Curl up with him under a blanket and drink hot chocolate in the winter. My life was perfect. It truly was a fairytale. “I’m happy exactly where I am too,” I said. “With you. With this life we created.”
“And you’re sure it wouldn’t give you peace of mind to figure out what everyone you left behind is up to?”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to know.” I could have looked it up too. I’d been tempted a few times. But I never typed their names into Google. I never signed up for any social media accounts. I liked being a ghost online. I liked not knowing. The less I knew the better.
“Do you really think we’re safe here?” I asked.
“I do. And now you have your own car. Just in case something does happen when I’m not home. I know you wanted that.”
I looked over at the old car next to his new truck. Having it was a sense of security. If he took his truck to work now, I’d still be able to get away if Isabella showed up.
He cradled my face in his hands, pulling me back to the present. He was good at that. Distracting me from my wandering thoughts of the future. I needed that. I needed him.
“Happy 30th birthday, Miller.”
“I wasn’t super excited to turn 30. But it certainly beats the alternative. I want to grow old with you.”
“You’ll always be a lot older than me.”
“Hey.” He tickled my side in retaliation to my comment.
Which turned into a full out tickle war. And we somehow managed to knock over the picnic basket. His cake I’d painstakingly spent hours on toppled onto the front of my dress.
“Crap,” I said. I went to wipe it off when he caught my hand.
“This was how I wanted to eat it anyway.” He pushed my strap off my shoulder and licked some icing off the top of my breast.