Page 111 of Just One Moment

Ourtable.

Andin the very chair he sat in almost two months ago;Ifind him.

Asigh of relief escapes us both as we lock eyes.

Weslowly take the other in, savoring the first look as if it’s been an eternity.

Iwant to push up his glasses as they slide down his nose.ThehairIlove to mess up is styled perfectly.He’sin a beige, knitted sweaterIknow is soft to the touch, and his hands rub against his jean-clad thighs, giving away his nervousness.

Seeinghim for the first time in weeks sends my senses into overdrive.Ineed to feel the scruff of his beard against my hands.Toimmerse myself in his warm, spicy scent.Towatch his blush creep up his neck.Tohear him whisper my name.Totaste his kisses.

Fromthe impatient, craving look he’s giving me, he’s missed me just as much.

“Hi, honey.”

“Hey, you.”

Weboth smile.

Suddenly,Idon’t know what to do with myself.Myhands feel strange when they’re not touching him.

Chairlegs scrape against the floor as he pulls one out from the table. “Willyou sit with me?”

Ina flashI’mnext to him, and he chuckles at my speed.

Whatdoes it mean that he’s here?Therewas never any timeframe to our separation, but from what he’s shown me so far, he’s taken a lot of big steps in the right direction.Weboth have.

“Howare you?”Hetakes my hand in his, weaving our fingers together.

“I’mgood.Thevan.Graham, the van.It’samazing.Ishould have texted.Allyour letters.Ohgod,I’mgoing to cry again.”Idrop my head, taking deep breaths to stop the shaking in my voice. “I’vemissed you so much.”

“Youhave no idea how muchI’vemissed you.”Hetucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Curlymisses you too.It’sbeen awfully quiet without you.”

“Ididn’t think anyone could miss my endless babbling.”

“Quinn.”Hesighs my name. “Imiss you when you’re sleeping.”

There’sa lightness to him.Asubtle credence.He’sstill myGraham, though.

Myfingers curl around his bicep and squeeze. “You’relooking for a therapist?”

“Yeah.”Henods. “Idon’t know if the first one will stick, butIhopeIfind a good fit.”

“We’rereally not that different.Imeet with one afterChristmas.”

Hiseyes widen before filling with pride. “That’sgood.Reallygood, baby.”Isqueak in protest when he slips his hand from mine, making him laugh. “Ihave another letter for you.”

Hepulls out a folded piece of paper, and likeI’vebeen doing all week, my fingers unfurl, andIwait for it to be handed over.

Thetips of his ears go red and there’s a slight tremble in his hands. “Today,IthoughtI’dread it to you.Isthat okay?”

Mypalms press to my cheeks, andInod. “I’dreally like that.”

Heclears his throat, flashes me that rare smile, and then, like rich coffee, he speaks, “‘Date:Decemberthirteenth.’”

Today’sdate.

“‘Sunshineand rain clouds.Sodifferent and not often seen together.Icouldn’t understand why one would want to be with the other.It’safter meetingQuinnJacksonthatIknow why gray clouds and sunshine work so well together.Whendone just right, they make something beautiful and rare.Arainbow.That’swhat we are; inexplicably beautiful.Withoutone, we don’t get all the beautiful colors that make up the world around us.

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