Page 135 of Promise Me Sunshine

“Well, I’ve never seen your bedroom.”

He quirks his face in disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“You always keep your door closed! And contrary to popular belief I do understandsomesocial boundaries. Okay, let me guess. Waterbed? Black silk sheets? Strobe light and techno music for when you’re feeling amorous?”

“It’s crazy how well you know me.”

“Oh, I know! There’s no bed at all. Just a bearskin rug. You sleep in the nude and snack on beef jerky.”

He laughs and shakes his head at me. “Hey, while we’re on the subject of scenarios your brain creates…” He rolls up on one side and props his head on his hand. “When we first met, what was your love-at-first-sight fantasy about me?”

His hand comes to rest on my rib cage. I follow his lead and trace a hand over his body. It’s meant as a power move, to seduce and tantalize him, but I find myself immediately drawn in by his heat, the firm pushback of his muscles, the hardened tracks of his bones. His hand starts to wander me, gliding down from my ribs, over my ass, down my thigh until he finds the back of my knee. He effortlessly, easily, lifts my leg so that it rests on top of his.

I gasp a little, my eyes finding his. His eyebrows lift, likeGo on with what you were saying.

I try to remember what we were even talking about. “Oh, the fantasy? Well, remember that the whole thing took place in, like, the very first second I saw you. Right when Reese opened the door for you and you were arguing with her. So I got this kind of intense version of you right off the bat.”

“And…”

“Well, the fantasy was that you were kind of hardcore. Punk rock or something? And we were sort of fuck buddies but you were cheating on me a ton and treating me bad. So one day I got super fed up with you and broke it off and then you finally realized that you were in love with me and came crawling back, totally devoted to me. And then I guess we got married or something?”

He’s bodily aghast. “What? Are you serious?”

I shrug.

“What kind of fantasy is that? It sounds more like a cautionary tale.”

“They’re not predictions! They don’t mean anything. Who even knows why I do it.”

His face makes a face.

“What?” I prod. “Oh, you thinkyouknow why I do it?”

“I think…you are indomitable.”

“Thanks. But why would that have anything to do with compulsive romantic fantasies?”

“I think that even in all your worst moments of grief, you’ve wished for companionship. I think you’re always, secretly, hoping for happy endings, even when they don’t seem possible. You saycompulsivebut I think they’re actually kind of just…tenacious. Like daisies popping up out of the snow. Grief has been sort of, I don’t know, it sounds sappy, but likewinterfor you. And I think that the part of you that can’t help but manufacture happiness, because that’s who you are, it’s been sending up these little flowers to pop up and keep you company.”

I’m gaping at him. There are no words. I knew he paid attention to me, but this is like…knowingme.

Luckily he saves me from having to respond to this by serving me a light insult. “But this whole time I kind of thought that you generally got a good read on people right away with these fantasies. But come to find out you’re justsowrong.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh, collapsing down onto my back and looking up at him. In this position, he’s the wall between me and the world and it’s so lovely I could cry. “I’m pretty much wrong about everything. Honestly, it’s one of my favorite parts of life. It turns everything into a surprise.”

He smiles and tucks me against him. “You surprised me too.”

“Because your first impression of me was so bad?”

“No. Well, yeah. But I meant that you surprised me because…I feel corny saying it, but…I’ve never felt like this before.”

“Oh, come on. You’ve been in love before.”

“That’s not quite what I mean. Yes, I’ve been in love before. And it was real and I’m grateful for it and I wouldn’t change it. But with you, Len, when I met you…I sort of feel like I metmyself.” I tip my face up but he’s watching the ceiling. “Not that I didn’t know myself before…it’s more like, after my mom and Anders died I was just so injured that I couldn’t do anything but survive. It got better little by little, but I was still the guy with the tragic backstory. Everyone was always verycareful.And then I moved here and met you. And you…let me help you. I got to remember what it feels like togive.And you’re not in the least bit careful with me. Which…yeah. Feels good. You helped me remember how to feel strong. Healthy. Needed. I didn’t know I could feel like that anymore.”

There is nothing he could have said that could have possibly made me feel better about myself. “Thank you,” I whisper, holding him so tight. “I’m so, so grateful that we met each other.”

He holds me tight. “Yeah. It really worked out well.”

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