Strong arms wrap around me, and I’ve never felt such relief and reward equally. He kisses my head, and then says, “The knot in my chest is gone.”

The lies he carried . . .

The burden he bore . . .

The secrets he swore to uphold . . .

All weighed on him, and then his aunt tortured him some more.

I kiss his chest and then under his chin. His arms don’t loosen until I wiggle enough to look up again. Searching his eyes, I return to what started it all, and ask, “Why are you the lucky one?”

“Because he tried to take me down with him.”

My stomach drops, the revelation almost too much to handle. I might not have ever had the chance to love this man. I lift on my toes to kiss him, and then he kisses each of my cheeks where the tears stream down. He says, “You’re only allowed to cry happy tears, remember?”

“They are happy. I’m happy you’re here.” We embrace again, but this time when we part, our hands stay together. The winds have changed, and the temperature has suddenly dropped. I think I’ve had enough of the cliffs today, maybe forever. Who cares if they’re gray or shine like diamonds. They almost stole him from me. I say, “I’m exhausted. Let’s go home.”

“Yours or mine?”

We start walking to the car. I think about his question, and only one thing comes to mind. “Wherever you are is home to me.”

28

Harbor

It happened so fast.

I went from spying on Lark in class to her being the part of my heart that makes it beat. One month?

That can’t be right.

A lifetime can’t explain what I feel for her. We’re in too deep, emotions too heavy, the weight of gold, and a thousand love stories all in one.

She moves around the kitchen, putting a dash of this and a splash of that into the large pot on the stove. Since I was banned from assisting, I’ve watched her cook like a professional. She said her dad taught her how to cook. The meals aren’t complicated, but they’re good. “It smells incredible in here.”

I think she also picked up a trick or two from working in the catering business.

We could’ve gone out. I could’ve treated her to the best meal in town to celebrate the occasion—our month-i-versary, as she calls it. She didn’t want that.

She wanted to stay home.

She wanted me.

I refill her glass halfway. I’ve already learned she doesn’t like the commitment of having to finish it. This is her second half glass, and I think tonight she’ll finish the job.

I sit back down on the other side of the bar with my own glass of wine. I don’t drink wine much, but I wanted to drink what she was having. I texted my mom for a recommendation. I know it’s a good wine, but expensive, so I asked Lark to stay in the car when I ran in to buy it.