"Baby girl, slow down," Divya says. "Start at the beginning."
"You're going to give me advice?" I ask.
"If you want," she says. "Or I can listen and make more coffee and fix chocolate chip pancakes."
Like when I was little.
Maybe…
Maybe this is okay.
I take my last sip and I start at the beginning.
Through three cups of coffee, I spill the details. Staying with Oliver. Finding comfort in his steady presence. Even running into Sean, pretending we were an item.
And falling for his honesty and his strength and his heart.
And the look in his eyes when he told me it was over. Like he couldn't stand that things had to be this way.
Maybe they don't.
Maybe he'll see that.
But I can't do it for him.
When I run out of story, tears, energy, I climb into my bed, close my eyes, fall asleep.
A few hours later, a knock wakes me.
"Luna, your friend is here to say goodbye," Divya says.
Right. Daisy is leaving. It's still light out. But maybe her ride changed the timeline. Or maybe…
"Okay. Tell her I'll be five." I change into the first thing I find—a simple black sweater dress and boots—then I pee, wash my hands, wash my face, brush my teeth.
Move downstairs.
Only it's not Daisy waiting at the door.
It's Oliver.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Luna
He's too handsome.
Even with dark circles and weary eyes.
He's still so tall and broad and safe.
"Hey." He runs his hand through his short hair. "I, uh… can I have a minute?"
I look to Mom. Nod it's okay. Step outside. "Only one."
"Fair." He slips his hand into his front pocket. Waits for me to pull the door closed. Move onto the front step. "I'm guessing you don't want to hear I'm sorry again."
"It depends what you say after."
"I am sorry," he says. "For getting scared. For running away. For leaving you at that fucking party by yourself."
"Was that it? The party?"
"Part of it." His eyes fix on mine. "It's complicated."
Is it? Or is it simple? He left.
I pull my hands over my chest. Rub my upper arms. It's a cloudy afternoon. Cool. Or maybe it's my body begging for his warmth.
Oliver slips his leather jacket off his shoulders. Slings it over mine.
"Thanks." I pull it tighter.
"I, uh, I was going to wait for this part, but since we're here—" He holds out his left arm.
Part is covered in plastic.
A fresh tattoo.
An addition to his Latin quote.
ex favilla nos resurgemus
From the ashes, we rise.
The same thin black words.
And a crescent moon.
"Oliver…" My hands go to his skin reflexively. "You…"
"Yeah."
"For me?"
He nods.
"But… what if I tell you to fuck off?"
"Oh, it's temp. I'll just wash it off."
"Really?"
He chuckles. "No. I called Holden. Did it first thing."
My fingers brush the plastic wrap. "Can I?"
He nods yeah.
I unwrap. Run my finger over the familiar letters. The moon. "It's beautiful."
"I thought about a wild fire. Because that is you. You're a force of nature. Strong and beautiful and dangerous."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Let me finish."
I shake my head. "You used your minute."
"This didn't buy me another?"
I can't help but laugh. "Maybe five."
"That's it?"
I nod. "Go bigger if you want more."
"Okay. Five minutes." He takes my hand. Looks into my eyes. "I better cut to the point."
I nod you better.
"I love you."
"You love me?"
"Yeah. I love you so much it scares me. It did scare me. Thinking of the way you brighten every fucking room you're in. And the way you smile. And that perfect energy that radiates from your eyes. And thinking of being the reason why it faded… But it's not just that. I was scared of everything else. Losing you. Falling harder. Getting hurt."
I swallow hard.
"It's hard for me. Feeling everything. Seeing in color. I'm not sure I can do it. I'm not sure I can be the guy you need. I've never done that before. But I know I love you. And I want to make you happy. And I'll try my fucking hardest, every fucking day, to make that happen. To be the guy you need."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," he says. "But I'm not there yet." He swallows hard. "I'm not drinking and I'm trying hard, but I'm still an alcoholic fuckup."
"Oliver—"
"Don't argue, angel. You spent the night crying because of me."
The pet name makes my heart thud. My body doesn't care about hurt or betrayal or any silly practicalities. Only about his strong arms and his soft skin and his gorgeous eyes.
That feeling when he holds me.
The taste of his lips.
But this is important. And he's right.
He's trying, but he's not there yet. He might never be there.
I nod okay.
He continues, "I'd love to tell you I'm past that. That I'm healed. But I'm not. I'm still fighting. I'm going to be fighting for a while. And I'm going to fuck up again. And get scared and run off again. And you're going to have to wait."
"Okay."
"I want to be everything you need, Luna. I want to be the guy who deserves you. I'm not there yet. And I'm going to work to get there every day, but I can't promise I will. I can't promise I'll stay sober. Only that I'll try."
"Really hard?"
"Yeah."
"You're sure that you'll try really fucking hard?"
He nods.
"I love you too." I don't give him the chance to respond. I kiss him like the ship is going down.
Epilogue
Luna
Who needs peppermint cake when single-origin Kenyan beans are an option?
Dark, rich, bitter perfection.
Ruined by cream and sugar. Or almond milk and honey. Or the way too sweet cake.
Sure, it's Christmas. And the four of us are here for a new tradition: post dinner chocolate and coffee.
Yes, peppermint is really festive.
But so is the raw tiramisu I made. And no one is touching that.
I expect this from Holden and Daisy, but Oliver?
"You'd like this better." I dig my fork into my slice. Bring a bite to my lips. Let the flavor dissolve on my tongue. Chocolate and coffee. Truly the greatest tastes in the world.
"I'd rather watch you groan over it," he says.
Holden makes an ick sound. "And I'm the one who needs new material?"
Daisy nods kind of. "That's what it's like when it's new."