She knew what I couldn’t say. She knew what my joke really meant. She knew as well as I did that what we’d just done had changed everything. There was no going back now. It would be impossible to put that particular genie back into the bottle.

We lay there quietly for a long time.

“Can you turn the light off?” she finally asked.

I reached up and pulled the light cord, blanketing the room in shadows.

“I need a new bed,” she said, shifting until she’d pushed me onto my back so she could rest her hands and chin on my chest. “This one is too loud.”

“It is?” I hadn’t noticed.

“The neighbors in the next building could probably hear it,” she joked, giving me a lopsided smile.

Her hair was a gorgeous mess, tangled around her face and falling into her eyes, so I reached up and brushed it back with my hand.

“Jesus, I’m lucky,” I murmured, staring at her in awe. “What are the chances of a girl from New York and a guy from Oregon meeting in Missouri?”

She beamed. “I guess we’re both lucky,” she replied, her fingers tracing small patterns on my skin.

I sighed with happiness as rain started falling, the familiar sound instantly relaxing me.

“Ugh. I hate the rain,” Sarai murmured, turning her head to look out the window.

“You do?” I asked in surprise, following her gaze. “I love it. It reminds me of home.”

“It makes the roads slick,” she muttered, turning her head back to look at me. “And it’s not like when it’s icy and people are extra careful.”

“Is that how your parents died?” I asked quietly.

Sarai stared into my eyes for a long moment. “Yes,” she said. “The driver that hit us hydroplaned and lost control.”

“God, I’m sorry.”

“It was an accident,” she continued with a small shake of her head. “A total accident and they were both gone.”

“You were in the car?” I asked.

“Yeah.” Her lips trembled. “And I walked away without a scratch.”

“Thank God,” I whispered, the thought of never having met her like a boulder in my gut.

“I wouldn’t have agreed with you back then,” she said with a sad smile.

“I know that feeling,” I replied, running my fingers up and down her back. “I lost my mom when I was young, too.”

“You did?” she asked in confusion. “But you talk about your parents all the time.”

“I was adopted when I was nine.”

“What?” She looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “You’ve never said anything about being adopted,” she said incredulously.

“It never came up…” My voice trailed off as I realized how lame that excuse was. “I don’t mention it much.”