"Yes," he says, sliding his hand up my arm until he reaches my neck. My skin is on fire.
"Is there anything else you want to ask me?” he asks. "I promise I only have one tattoo."
I laugh and put my arms around him.
"By the way," I say, "you look nothing like Napoleon Dynamite.
"What?" he asks before it dawns on him and starts laughing. "So you did read the email."
"Every line," I say.
"Laila," he says, "do you love me?"
I look into his eyes and smile, "I love you, Sam. I can't imagine my life without you. These past two months have been the longest of my life."
"Why didn't you call me?" he asks.
"At first, I was angry, hurt, embarrassed. It was a lot for me to absorb."
"What about later?" he asks.
"I wanted you to be sure that you wanted me and not Patricia."
"What on earth made you think I wanted Patricia?"
"Your silence regarding her, the lies, the fact that she was your first love, and I saw you kiss her."
"Why does everyone keep saying that?" he asks. "She kissed me."
"I wanted you to be sure," I say.
"Come here," he says, leading me to the couch.
When we both sit, he puts an arm on the back of the couch and shifts his position until he's facing me.
"Laila," he says, holding my hand. "I'm sure. I haven't been more sure of anything in my entire life."
How many times have we sat like this before? Dozens? Hundreds? It feels like a lifetime ago.
"Sam," I begin, "I live in Boston now."
"I know," he says.
"I don't want to do a long-distance relationship," I say.
"So you don't want to be with me," he says.
"No. Yes," I say. "What I mean is that I don't want to be away from you—not for a second."
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"I'm positive," I say, more sure now than ever. “I want to be with you, Sam."
"Aaron's parents own the condo down the hall from yours," he says, "I'm leasing it from them."
"You're what?" I ask.
"I love you, Laila. There's no one else. There's nothing else. It's been you since the moment I met you. I don't want to be apart from you ever again."