Page 47 of When We Meet Again

I hate it. I want to get weird with her. If she asks me to dive in headfirst into a Machine Gun Kelly-Megan Fox weird spiritual blood necklace thing? I think I’d be down. I’m head over heels in love with her. It’s not sudden. Not forced. It’s been like a freight train barreling toward me for years.

I’d love nothing more than to use a tidal wave metaphor, but that definitely might be too soon.

I pull away. “If that’s what you want, then it’s fine with me.” Her shoulders fall in relief. “Under one condition.” Her shoulders tense again, and she says nothing.

“Would you be up to sleeping with me every night?” Waverly’s eyes widen. “Oh, I don’t mean sex. I mean literally sleep. Like next to each other.”

Great. Now I’m a rambling idiot, but at least she’s smiling.

“I suppose that could be arranged.” With a roll of her eyes and a small grin, I grip her hips a little harder and tickle her above her knee. Laughter between us carries through the room, out into the hall, and I know that if my parents are quiet enough on the other side of the boat, they can hear us, too.

They hear happiness, friendship, and the sound of two broken foundations being built together.

We’re going to be indestructible.

The next fewdays are spent on the coast. We visit Torre dello Ziro and take pictures. I make sure to snap one of me and her with the watchtower in the background. More pictures of us at Villa Cimbrone Gardens with the coast in the background. Why stop at the bucket list? I want to give Waverly a journal full of pictures of the two of us.

There was a night where she was sleeping soundly on my chest with my arm wrapped around her. I snapped a photo. I decided to keep that one to myself. Instead, I came up with a genius idea of making her a book of all the pics we’ve taken together past, present, and for the next few years—or whenever she decides she wants to marry me. It will be like a journal of our journey. A personalized wedding gift to her from me, because that is how this ends, with us married.

If I’m persistent enough, maybe she’ll realize what I’m willing to do to make her happy. Her smile makes me smile. I knew after we watched the stars, there was nowhere to go but fall for her just like a star falls from the sky. It was inevitable.

As we wait for the plane to take off back to the states, Waverly decides to fix her own drink. She opts in for a whiskey and lime instead of her usual choice of champagne. Quite the combo for acid indigestion, but I’m not stopping her.

Waverly starts chopping a lime while singing the lyrics to a song I’ve never heard before. The knife waves about more than it should be.Hell…she even looks good while she’s brandishing a knife.My mind goes dark for a split second.

“Shit!” She slams down the knife and holds her finger, tears falling from her eyes.

I rush over to assess the damage, “That’s a pretty good gash you got there. Here…” I grab a clean dishtowel from the drawer and hold it to her finger, trying to stop the bleeding.

“I’m sorry.” She’sapologizing?

I guide her to the bathroom and have her sit on the lidded toilet. “What the fuck are you apologizing for? It was an accident. It takes special skills to wave knives around andnotcut yourself,” I smirk and her lips tilt ever so slightly, “Now let me fix you up.” I pour antiseptic on the cut, and she winces.

“Tssss. Ouch.” I blow on her finger, and I feel her eyes on me. I love the way she watches me. Like I’m a mystery to her.

“Better?” She nods and I dab it dry and overload it with antibiotic cream before applying a Band-Aid.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do all of this.” She looks at her bandaged finger and grins.

“I did. There’s no reason you need to take care of yourself when I’m here to take care of you. Never again.” I take her hurt finger and bring it to my lips, kissing it like a parent kisses their kid’s boo-boos. It lingers a little longer as our eyes are locked and loaded on each other.

She pulls her finger away and stands and I follow her back to her seat. “Maybe next time you should use a butterknife.”

“A butterknife?!” Her laughs echoes through the interior of the plane.

“Yeah. Why not? It’s like a gateway knife.” The shake of her head and the smile on her face proves we’ve officially made it to a different level ofbeing—but this time we’re together.

After “knife-gate,”Lena ended up finally leaving on the helicopter. She and Waverly hugged and Lena thanked her for the wise words seconds before she started her TikTok live of her getting on said helicopter. Waverly and I got to enjoy each other’s company along with my parents. There wasn’t much free time for the two of us to be alone, and quite frankly, I don’t want our first sexy moments to be within twenty feet of my parents.

The plane ride back to the states was pretty much the same as it was to Italy, sans the jerk-off sesh in the shower. Waverly showed all of her pictures to Emily after she surprised her with a small vanilla cake with a single candle. It was that moment that showed me how Waverly doesn’t need the grand gestures. Does she appreciate them? Yes. But she likes simple. Simple is more intimate. And man, do I want to be intimate with Waverly.

Like the gentleman I am,I drove Waverly home on my bike and her luggage was going to make it safely there an hour later. I didn’t have to drive her, and she knew that, but I don’t think either of us were ready to say goodbye.

“Do you want to come in?” she asks, standing in front of her apartment. Of course, I want to come in, but I think it’s better if I give her some space. After the whole Lena thing got taken care of, things escalated with the kiss. I don’t want to overwhelm herby making her think I want more. I’m all in, but there’s a time and place to tell her that.

I tuck her hair behind her ear. “I think I’m going to call it a night. Jet lag will catch up to us eventually, and I have to check in at work. Make sure everyone is still doing their jobs and not burning my company to the ground.”

She looks like she’s photographing me with her eyes. They rake across my face, to my lips, to my chest, drag down my torso, and like lightning, flash over my groin. I can’t help but smirk at her forwardness of checking me out. Something she never would’ve done before. Rightfully so.

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