Page 27 of A Mountain Man Walks into a Library

After a while, Remy says, “I am going to be diabetic for the rest of my life.”

And I have to roll my eyes at that. “And I’m nearsighted,” I tell him, “that’s what contacts are for.”

“It’s different, and you know it.”

He sounds so sure. Like he’s spent a lifetime convincing himself of this essential fact about how unlovable he is.

I shake my head. “Not when it comes to how I feel about you. You’re diabetic. You have blue eyes. You work at a library. Your hair is kind of reddish-blond. I would love you if your hair was brown.” I reach out to twine a lock of his hair around my finger. “Actually, that would be kind of hot.”

Remy’s face flushes and his eyes lock onto mine. “Say that again,” he says.

“That you’re hot?” I ask, my mouth sliding into a sideways smile. “You’ve got to know you’re hot, right?”

He glares at me. “No. The other thing.”

I swallow. “I love you,” I say. I slip my hand out of his hair and curl it around the back of his neck. “I love you, Remy. Have you not picked up on that yet? Or the fact that I’ve enjoyed taking care of you since the day we met?”

His eyes slip closed at my touch, his face gone gentle. I want to see that look every day. I want to keep making him relax, making him feel good.

Remy licks his lips before speaking. “I’m a little slow sometimes,” he says and offers me an embarrassed smile. “Nose always in a book, you know?”

“I do.”

He huffs out a little breath. “Look, I know it might not seem like some big revelation. Lots of people are diabetic. But I’ve been managing this condition since I was ten years old. And it’s a bummer, all right? I can’t eat food the same way other people do. My meals are regulated, both what I eat and when I eat. I have constant doctor appointments. It gets worse when I’m sick, even if it’s just the common cold.

I have to test my blood multiple times a day, and give myself insulin injections. I’m looking into a continuous glucose meter and insulin pumps, but it would be a big change, and I don’t know if I’m ready to upend a system that’s been working for twenty years.”

He glances up at me finally, looking a little startled to have said so much. I try to keep my face neutral, even though I want to lean down and kiss him. But he just shakes his head and keeps talking.

“My condition dictates every part of my life because it has to. If I ignore it, I can die.” He draws in a shaky breath. “I just need you to know all of that before you decide to do anything else.”

A slow, soft smile takes over my mouth. “Remy. You stubborn asshole,” I say, and then I give in to the urge.

I lean down and kiss him. He tastes just like he did back at the cabin, just like dark coffee, even though it’s nine at night. But he might be the kind of guy who drinks it all day.

Remy breathes in sharply, and then he kisses me back. And I don’t care that we spent the weekend kissing each other. I don’t care that we’ve already had sex.Thisis the first kiss. This one. Because we’re doing it on purpose, with no secrets between us, only honesty and the question:Can you love me as fully as I need?

I think I can.

Behind us, Noah whoops, and I grin against Remy’s mouth. He pulls back to rest our foreheads together. The rest of the bar falls away then, the hum of the crowd and the needling of my best friend, the music they play from the speakers between sets, all of it. There’s only the sound of Remy’s soft breath, only the warmth where his skin touches mine.

“I love you,” he says, “I’ve loved you for months. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

And I can’t wait anymore. I set the cake pan on an empty high-top and gather Remy into a fierce hug against my chest. He breathes out a strained laugh into the crook of my neck.

“Hey, have you heard this one?” Remy asks. “It’s by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. He writes, ‘Books are mirrors: you only see in them what you already have inside you.’ Sam, this has been inside me for so long. Iloveyou. And I want you to be a part of my life, even though it’s hard sometimes.”

The grin that breaks over my face almost hurts. “That’s all I want.”

It is. Remy smiling at me, Remy in my arms, Remy in mylife. The two of us curled into his bed at the cabin, warm and close.

“Please come home with me,” Remy says. He’s smiling at me like we’re in on another secret together. But the secret isn’t a secret at all. We love each other.

“Whatever you need,” I tell him, and then I kiss him again before slipping out the door into the crisp night air of a Granite-Glacier spring, the song of peepers carrying all the way from the mountain.

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