When she turned it over in her hands, I shifted my gaze to her face, anxiously waiting for her reaction.
“Ohhhhh.” She breathed out. “Oh, Eli. This is beautiful.”
“It’s not a first edition, of course, but it’s . . . well, it’s old. About a hundred years old. And I picked A Midsummer’s Night Dream because I think of it as our play. It’s the one that made me remember how we met.”
“How did you do this?” Her eyes were shining, and suddenly, I felt as though I could jump out of this damn chair and run a mile.
“I kind of had help. My mom has a lot of connections to bookstores that sell vintage stuff, and so she gave me a hand. But it was my idea, and I chose it.”
“Your mom rocks.” She shot me a swift smile. “It’s just—gorgeous.” She opened the book to the middle and lifted it to her nose, sniffing with her eyes closed. “And it smells good, too. Like a book should. As though it has tons of history.”
I shook my head. “You’re the only person I know who smells books, Zel. But I’m glad it meets your expectations.”
“It’s more than that, it’s . . .” She’d flipped to the front of the book, to check out the first page, and she stopped in mid-sentence. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes widened. “Oh, Eli.” Her fingertips brushed the words I’d written as she read them aloud. “Because you are the dream I didn’t know could come true.”
“Is it too much?” I questioned, frowning. I’d agonized over what to write, but in the end, I’d gone with my gut and spilled my heart.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered. “Thank you so much. This . . . it’s just exactly right.”
“Okay, part one is a win.” I lifted the second, smaller box. “Keep that in mind as you open this one.”
“Hmmm.” She went about opening it just as she had the first, her brow furrowing just slightly when she saw the small white jeweler’s box. She pulled off the lid and drew out the fine silver chain. “It’s so delicate.”
The bracelet was simple, with just the chain and a plain solid silver piece with scrolled engraving. Zelda held it up and read the words there.
“Try everything at least once.” She glanced at me. “Okay. Oh! That was your fortune the night we ate Chinese food last year.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Now turn it over.”
She did, and when she saw what was engraved on the other side, she fell back against the sofa cushions, laughing. “I can’t believe you did that, Eli.”
“Hey, it’s tradition. You have to add it to every fortune: in bed.” I held her gaze. “But even though it’s kind of funny, it’s important, too. Because that was the first night we were together. And I mean it, too. You should try everything at least once—and that includes stuff that scares you shitless. Stuff like . . . us.”
“I’m not scared.” Her reply was knee-jerk automatic.
“Okay.” I winked at her. “We’ll table that for now. Do you like the bracelet? I was thinking about a necklace, but I know you always wear that star. I’ve never seen you without it, so I figured it wasn’t something you take off. I thought the bracelet would go with it, though.”
“I love it, Eli. It’s beautiful. Will you help me put it on?” She handed me the bracelet and extended her wrist, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she watched me fasten it. “And you’re right about the necklace. I always wear it. It’s probably kind of stupid, but . . .” She lifted one shoulder.
“Did your grandmother give it to you?”
“No.” She gave her head a small shake. “Ah. Kind of, but . . . well, when I was about seven, my mother—Lottie, that is—had a short time period when she was . . . better. Not entirely well, but the best I’d ever known her to be. The doctors had found the right combo of meds, and for about six months, she was relatively stable.” Zelda pressed her lips together. “I’d only known crazy, manic Lottie, but I was at an age where I really craved mother-love. Not that Grammy didn’t love me—she did, and she does—but it was still different. For those months, though, Lottie recognized that I was her daughter, and she treated me that way. She read to me, she talked with me . . . and one day, the three of