Page 132 of Until I Have You

“Me either.”

We share a determined nod, and I head toward the door.“I’ll be on the soonest flight to Dublin.”

“Keep me updated, will you?”Edwin asks.

I put my hand on the doorknob, turn back to him, and say, “Absolutely.”

Emotion wells up in my friend’s face, his lips trembling.

I don’t know him to be a crier.But we’ve changed over the years.Grown up.A lot.Until now, though, we haven’t done any growing up together.Better late than never.

“Good.Good.I’ll try and reach out again, but if she doesn’t reply, tell her I love her, will you?”

“Of course.”

Edwin holds back any vulnerability that was threatening to come to the surface.He hardens his jaw, stares me down, and says, “Don’t hold back, okay?Say what you mean to her, or else you’ll regret it.”

A smile spreads across my face, one that sends all the negative spiraling thoughts back, hissing at the light of truth.“Trust me.I know exactly what I need to say to her.”

I owe her an apology, prostrate on my knees before her.

And then three words.

I love you.

Maybe six.

I love you.No matter what.

Yes.That has a nice ring to it.

26

ABIGAIL

The crisp Marchwind sweeps over the cliffside, whipping at my back.If I let the wind carry me away, it might send me stumbling toward the edge, down into the rocks below.I might only be studying birds, but the work isn’t for the faint of heart.

The grunting cries of puffins surround me from all sides as I climb down toward my research partner, Olivia, who is studying a mama puffin burrowed into her cliffside nest, waiting for her partner to return with food.

I tighten my scarf around my neck and post up behind her, pulling my binoculars out to get a closer look.

She’s so damn cute, her puffy body settled on her egg.Like penguins, puffins lay one egg every season.

“How’s it going?”

Olivia shushes me.“He’s coming back.”

We watch the bobbling male puffin approach the nest with a beak full of fish.Good man.And, as any good puffin mate would, he feeds his partner.

“So romantic,” Olivia says drolly.

“Don’t be jealous.”

Olivia glares at me through her glasses, sprinkled with water droplets.“I’m not jealous of a bird.”

“Sure, you’re not…”

She elbows me, then starts taking notes on her clipboard.

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