I drifted toward Tess with a confession, a profession, an admission on my lips, but before I reached her, she stepped toward me to grab my hand and tow me to the window, turning me to face it.

My lips parted in awe as I took in the display—I’d only seen Tess until just then.

Written across both windows in flowers were the words Love happens in moments. And I stepped closer, distantly noting that her hand fell away.

In each window were three vignettes, marked by signs held by scrolling frames. Moments, moments we’d lived, moments I’d lived with her, moments I’d loved her. The first was a small pile of hay with our blanket tossed over it, a whiskey bottle and two glasses on display next to a sign that said, When you first kissed me. The ladder she’d fallen from: When you saved my life. The swing I’d made for her: When you stole my heart. Numb feet walked me to the other window where three of our succulent crates were strung. Sometimes, things work out, its sign said, and next to it was a piece of our broken installation. And sometimes, they don’t.

At the end was a mirror, its elaborate gilded frame carved in whorls and waves. In the curves of the scrolls, ranunculus in creams and peaches over leaves of green.

I glanced at my reflection, then at the sign under the mirror.

But as long as I have you, nothing else matters.

Tess moved to my side, and for a long moment, I memorized the sight of us in the mirror, the vision framed by flowers, the rightness of it staggering.

She turned. I met her. Looked into the face I loved so well, and all the things I wanted to say boiled down to one.

“I love you,” I said, my hands framing her face, tilting it up to mine.

A laugh slipped out of her, her eyes shining with tears. “Wait, that was my line.”

But I smiled without an ounce of regret. “You did all this for me?”

“Because I love you, Luke Bennet,” she said, smiling as she spoke the words that would forever change me. “Can you forgive me for my fear if I promise to always have faith?”

I drew a breath that drew her into me, and I answered her with a kiss, pressing my lips to hers in a delicate crush of decision and affirmation. And I kissed her with every corner of my heart and soul open in offering.

She melted into me, her body pressed against mine, the space between us gone, even when I broke the kiss.

“I am so sorry, Luke. I was so afraid—afraid for our future, afraid I’d lose you—and I can’t … I don’t want…” Her voice broke.

I thumbed her cheek, the space under her palm on my chest aching. “Shh. Please, don’t apologize,” I whispered.

“You told me nothing matters, not as long as we have each other, and you were right. Losing you would leave a wound that would never heal. Nothing matters, not as long as I have you.”