Page 103 of Dear Ripley

“Something more,” I said, my voice stronger, resolute. “With therapy, and honesty, and us.”

She smiled, nodded, and leaned in to press her lips to mine. My body went willingly, melting into her in a million familiar and unfamiliar ways. It felt like our first kiss and, simultaneously, like the long-awaited return it was. The combination was heady and intoxicating.

Her touches were every bit as soft as I remembered, but also desperate and reverential in a way I’d never known. It was poignant and peaceful, heartbreaking and hopeful. It was eight lost years and the promise of a million more together.

We kissed again and again, both crying and laughing in the moments between. And I knew, without doubt, that it was definitely in those moments that all of life happened.

My life had always been happening in the breaths between kissing Ripley Stone. And it always would be.

“So, we’re choosing…?” I whispered when she rested her forehead against mine.

She smiled contentedly, the grief of eight long years falling from her shoulders. “Forever,” she replied, leaning in to kiss me again.

Epilogue

Ripley

“Ripley,” Morgan whined from my living room, “come on. What are you doing? I’m bored.”

I laughed. “You just got here.”

“And I’m already bored. That’s how boring you’re being.”

“I think it’s more an indication that you’re a boring person if you can’t keep yourself entertained for two minutes.”

She appeared at the kitchen door, her hands on her hips, bedecked in possibly the most elaborate outfit she owned—and that was saying something. “You better take that back right now. I will not stand for this slander. You know I’m the most interesting person in your life, and you should think yourself lucky to know me. Do you have any idea how many people wish they knew someone as awesome as me?”

“I’m sure I could take a guess,” I replied, snapping the lid of the Tupperware before me in place.

“What are you doing?” She eyed the container. “We’re getting food there.”

“Yes, I know.” I smiled softly, unable to suppress my blush, but not really wanting to anyway. “Alicia had therapy today and I wanted to bring her a little pick-me-up.”

“Alicia always has therapy. It feels like the pair of you haven’t left therapy in the last five months.”

“You say that as if you don’t love your therapist.”

She waved me away, half herding me towards my coat. “You know I do, but I only see her once a week. You two are never out of the therapist’s office.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that much. Individual therapy, couples therapy, and Alicia’s doing an extra session each week to work through some stuff. As well you know. It’s important. And exhausting. Hence the cupcake.”

The flower I’d piped on top was also intended as a pick me up, but a secret one, just for the two of us, and I had no interest in explaining it to Morgan. She might be my best friend, but some things were only meant for Alicia.

“You two are genuinely quite sickening.”

“Again, you say that as if you don’t secretly love it.” I followed her out to the car. Climbing into the back in preparation for Alicia joining us momentarily.

“I love that you’re happy. I love that you’re no longer sunk into a pit of grief I don’t know how to get you out of. And I love that we can go out and do things again. But this whole cutesy thing you’ve got going? Ick.”

I laughed as she pulled away, heading for the Burton household.

Alicia could have gotten her own place, but she decided coming home required some actual time at home, and I was happy to support her in whatever she wanted. After five months, I was certain she’d finally gotten her fill and was getting close to her limit. Sometimes it was nice to go home as an adult, other times, you started to miss the freedom of your own space. But it had been good for her to be back around her family, to pick up with all the things she’d missed over the last few years.

Plus, we’d both gotten a weird little kick out of sneaking around her house like teenagers again. It had been a good five months.

I leaned forward, closer to Morgan’s chair. “Should I remind you of where we’re all going tonight if you’re going to criticize me for being too into my girlfriend?”

“I don’t see why you would,” she replied, sticking her chin into the air. “That would imply I had a girlfriend and you had something to say about her, and that could not be further from the truth.”

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