year to get my thoughts together, and they’d told me that while I could be alone if I wanted to, I’d had it good here. Just like this.
“It is,” I agreed.
“What a year it’s been,” he mused.
I nodded. “Did you have fun at the reunion?”
“Without you? No.”
“Oh.”
“Did you?”
“I had more fun at Marley’s.”
“That makes sense. More of your friends went to public school anyway.”
“I had this absurd thought that I’d show up at our reunion and show Shelly how amazing I am now.”
“How’d that go over?”
“It didn’t happen. I don’t have to prove anything to her. It was just … petty.” I glanced up at him. “Even admitting that I still thought about what she had done would only prove that she won.”
“Do you still think about it?”
“I think about you,” I whispered. “I wonder where we’d be if it hadn’t happened.”
“I’ll always find a way back to you, Lila. Hasn’t the last decade proven that?”
I swallowed and nodded. It had. Ash was my one constant. He was never too far away.
Ash tentatively reached out, linking his pinkie around mine. A chill ran up my arm at the contact. This wasn’t like high school, and somehow, it felt so similar. Like a new beginning. A new first.
“Another year gone,” he said. “How many more years do we have to keep ending up here, alone?”
“I don’t know, Ash.”
“I’m still here, Lila. I still love you.” He tugged me closer. “Come back to me. Let’s start over again.”
Our bodies were only an inch apart. I stared up into that all-too-familiar face. The sharp contours of his cheeks and the bright blue of his eyes and the tilt of his head and the perfect shape of his lips. It was all so easy. As easy as breathing.
I nodded. “Yes.”
And then his mouth fitted to mine. The place it had always belonged. The moment etched in stone, here in our hometown.
38
Savannah
December 24, 2018
“Come on.” Ash opened the passenger door and held his hand out to me.
I put my hand in his and dropped my heels down onto the pavement. “What’s this? I thought you’d finally convinced me to go back to church.”
“Detour.”
“All of that needling, and you opt for a detour instead of Christmas Eve mass,” I said as he helped me to my feet.
“It’s tradition.”
We’d started a year ago at Forsyth Park. It only made sense to spend Christmas Eve here again. So, I tucked my arm into his, warming my hand inside his peacoat pocket, and followed him into the park.
“Your parents are going to be mad if we’re late,” I teased.
“They’ll get over it.”
“My mom will understand at least.”
He grinned. “She’s just glad that I convinced you to come back to church.”
“Well, sorry that I have a negative association with it now.”
“That’s why we’re going to write new memories. No more church fights.”
“God, no.”
The last year had been a blur of good. If I’d thought that I’d made a hasty choice, our year together had proven to me exactly what I’d already known. Ash and I worked. I’d sublet my studio and moved in with him in Atlanta. When he wasn’t busy with work or finishing his MBA, he spent weekends flying to football games with me. As soon as he’d graduated, he’d fully taken over the Atlanta branch of Talmadge Properties. He had both more freedom to do whatever he wanted and more work, but he was born for this job.
I’d also been promoted to a more senior position and found I loved the new responsibilities that came with the job. It was a relief to be seen as an asset in the training room.
Life was good.
Better than it had been in a long time.
Ash pulled me against him to steal a kiss. “I love you, Lila.”
“I love you too.”
He smiled wider and then linked our hands, drawing me toward the fountain. It was all lit up and empty. Just like it had been last year. A guy walking his dog passed us, and then we were completely alone.
“I like this. We’ll have to do this every year.”
He nodded. “I’d like that.”
We talked like that more and more. About a future. When we’d been together last time, I’d avoided all talk of the future. I was desperate to get through PT school. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I still hadn’t completely forgiven him. It was hard to believe we’d ever hurt each other that much.
We reached the fountain, and I leaned forward against the railing. A year ago,