Page 139 of Before I Loved You

He clears his throat, taking the photo from my hands. “Sarah…” His free hand rubs the back of his neck. “Do you know who the man in this photo is?”

I shake my head, eyeing the image. “No. He’s the one who gave me Teddy, though. He made my first Christmas here bearable. He even gave me my first real hug in forever. I hadn’t let anyone touch me after my parents’ deaths. But something about this guy made me feel comfortable and seen. And I just jumped in his arms like a freaking koala and bawled my eyes out for a while. He just sat there and let me, not saying anything. It was exactly what I needed, and then—”

Gazing up at Paul, I find a tear cascading down his cheek.

“What’s wrong?” I turn to him, cupping his cheek, worried.

“Sarah, the man in that photo is…my dad. That was…” He sniffles, clearing his throat. “That was the last Christmas I had with him. He died a few days after this picture was taken.”

“Wh-what?” I grab the photo from him again and look closer.

The big chocolate brown eyes.

The light brown skin.

The height.

The chiseled jaw.

The smile.

It’s Paul’s doppelganger.

I was so lost in the memory that I didn’t clearly see him.

But now I do.

I turn to Paul, trying to wrap my head around this. “I met your dad?”

“Yeah, baby girl.” He nods, brushing his lips over my temple. “You did. You met my dad.”

And the most breathtakingly beautiful smile I have ever seen appears on Paul’s face.

thirty

PAUL

The house is thumping with music, the drinks are flowing, and the excitement in the air is palpable as people fill every nook and cranny of the downstairs. It’s a typical New Year’s Eve night for college students, and this year, Lord help us, Nate and I decided to play hosts to the partygoers.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Natalie and Vanessa walk inside, brushing snow off of themselves as they greet Nate by the front door. Sarah’s not with them because she’s coming straight from the art studio on campus after working on her pieces for her show, but I thought she would have been here by now.

Squeezing the back of my neck, I pull out my phone to check my message chain with her and find she still hasn’t responded.

Paul

Let me know when you’re here.

Unease fills me, but I’m sure she’s okay.

Inhale.

Everything is okay.

But it’s snowing heavily outside. What if she got in an accident on her way here?

She has to be okay.

Exhale.

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