“Why?” I ask, gesturing to the book.

He raises an eyebrow. “I thought if I promised to shower you with priceless rare books you might forgive me and reconsider heaven.”

The look on his face is open and vulnerable. His arm tightens around my shoulder. He’s terrified of my answer.

“Does heaven come with you?”

He closes his eyes. “Yes. That’s the deal.”

He still thinks I’m going to reject him. “Did you get my messages about New York?”

He looks at me, eyebrows drawn. “I lost my phone in London. I flew back as soon as I could. Then I came straight here. I looked for you everywhere, I…” He stops when he sees the look on my face. “What is it?”

“I waited for you at the top of the Empire State Building.”

A stunned look crosses his face. “You did what?”

I smile. “I thought I’d recreate a final romance cliché just for you.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” he says. His lips quirk in an almost smile and his eyes turn a lighter shade of blue.

“I knew you’d see it that way.” My smile grows.

“I love you,” he says. And the way he says it is like a prayer. I clasp his hand and lean my head to his chest. I press my lips to his beating heart.

“I love you,” I whisper. Then, “You’re not letting me go?”

“Never,” he swears. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t listen.”

“I don’t want Gavin.”

“I know.”

“Can I tell you a story?” I ask.

“Always.” He pulls me tighter against his side and we look toward the glowing sunset.

“Once upon a time,” I begin, “there was a little girl who wanted very badly to love and be loved. And when she met a little boy in this very tree, she thought he was the one. She idolized him and dreamed about him. But there was another boy who she didn’t idolize, who she claimed she didn’t even like. He was like a thorn in the bottom of her foot. Every time she drifted too far into the fantasy of the other boy, he’d poke her and pull her back to focus on him. Until finally, the girl realized she’d been wrong all along. That she didn’t love the boy from Erma’s vision, she loved the thorn, the man that kept waking her up from her dream—to live her real life, her best life, with him.”

Will reaches over and takes my hand. “Good story. Out of curiosity, what was Erma’s vision?”

I shrug. “The day my mom died, she saw that I met a boy. We climbed up this tree. He gave me his handkerchief and I gave him a flower. She said he was my soul mate.”