“What is?” I whisper back.

His hands cradle my face. He’s so close that I make out new freckles, too faint to be detected from even a foot away—on his brow bone, three beneath his left eyebrow. Secret freckles. There’s still so much I don’t know about Hall, that perhaps I’ll never know.

“You get a little bit happier,” he responds with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Those strange eyes, more human now than ever, but still not completely of this world. There’s an inner light in their depths—if I turn my profile at just the right angle, I can see it flickering. “It’s a good thing that my purpose is close to being fulfilled. I tell myself it’s a good thing.”

“I don’t want to be happy.” I swallow a rising lump in my throat. “I don’t want to be happy anymore if it means you’ll go, okay? Make my wish come true.”

Instead of making my wish come true, he holds me close. My thoughts stumble into the future, to a Bettie who won’t have this luxury anymore, who won’t be able to hold him whenever she wants. I love the way I feel when we’re together, bubbly and light and safe, whether alone or in a crowded room. The way he casts a glow over the atmosphere like anything can happen, mysteries around every corner, old concepts taken for granted shining in a new light. Even the bad days, with Hall, are adventures. Just thinking about how I’m going to lose his caring touch, and the opportunity to admire him while he . . . While he everything. Bakes with my mother, side by side, sending me flirty winks and secret smiles because he can feel my close attention on him. How could I want to look anywhere else?

He helps my grandparents by wheeling their garbage cans down the road for pickup, which is terribly attractive. If he walks through the kitchen and notices the oven timer has less than ten minutes left on it, he sticks around just to make sure someone’s there to get the food out before it burns. He answers the landline when everybody else ignores it, striking up friendly conversations with telemarketers. He tinkered with a grandfather clock on the third floor, making it chime the tune of one of Kaia’s songs. He performs magic tricks for the kids, involving all of them in unique and personal ways, making them feel special. They like how they get to pretend there is real magic in this world, but more than that, they like how he listens to them. He doesn’t act as though he’s above them talking down. I’m not all that maternal, although I think I could be someday in regard to my own children, and no power weakens my knees like the sight of Hall rocking baby Adrian to sleep while wearing a paper crown Honeysuckle Lou gifted him eight hours beforehand.

How can I give him up and not fall apart? To not be able to roll over at night and see him reading on his Kindle as he often does when it’s late; and then when he catches me looking, immediately begins reading aloud, giving each character a distinctive voice. My throat closes up. That feeling I wish I could stamp out only grows.