Page 64 of Until We Fall

“But it’s the job you wanted,” he says. “It’s…”

“No.” I search my thoughts. I mean reallysearchmy thoughts. “I want you. Just as much as you want me.”

I believe him.

“And California soundsamazing,” I say. “The beach and the palm trees.” I drag in the sweet smell of the flowers. “And to be close to your family. Maybe we could even…” I struggle with words. As much as I believe him, my next thought is so tremendous that I don’t know if it’s too much. To live together. To create a life with him, and?—

“We’d have to live with my brother for a while.” He’s wearing this huge, dopey, delighted smile. And then he laughs, so happily. “We could get our own place after the lease is up. I can work in the shop and you could do so many things Rory. Whatever you want.”

I blink back tears.

He goes with me, without questioning or doubting. He jumps off with both feet.

Dorian always jumps for me.

“I love you,” I say.

He hugs me tighter, big and warm and surrounding me. “You are worth so much to me.”

I breathe out, certainty settling deep in my chest. A beginning of a journey together. Both outside, and inside. “Iknow.”

EPILOGUE

Six Months Later…

Dorian

He’ll be here soon.

I check my phone for the millionth time, then set it down on the desk. There are yellow daisies spread out in front of me, work to be done. The warm, humid smell of the shop calms me.

Although I can’t really bethatcalmed. Because he’ll be here soon.

Did everything change?

Yeah. Itdid.

Rory moved into my room. And it was like something changed in him. He started to really believe, and with that, it was like he came to life even more. Finals and graduation all went as expected. Studying late into the night, and those last parties when it was all over. Between all of that, Rory and I sucked up every moment together. He took me ondates. Dinners and movies. Ice skating and even a formal dance.

And then we moved.

California and New York.

He had to complete a contract he’d signed for his job. The few weekends we’ve had—me flying back to see him or him flying here to see me—haven’t been enough.

But we’ve been making it work. And he’s only got another six months left.

“Hey, D.” My dad, Julian, sweeps past, balancing a cornucopia as he heads toward the backdoor. “Did you get those online orders ready to go out?”

“Working on it,” I call after him, although he’s already out the door, no doubt heading to the truck for the wedding we’ve got later today. There’s about a million things to do and hardly any time to do it. But I’ve got the orders set out on my table, the morning sun streaming through and highlighting the daisies to my right.

I take a swig from my tea and then reach for a ribbon. Tying a yellow bow around a vase that matches the flowers, I picture it all in my head, how it will fit together, the colors, the greenage, the details.

I reach for the scissors to cut the ribbon.

The daisies. The table. My half-drunk mint tea.

Holy fuck.

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