* * *

Happiness is written all over Harbor’s face.

A grin so genuine that it makes my heart ache in the best of ways.

His eyes are bright and wide on the game, but he’s stealing glimpses of me like he can’t believe I’m here.

And his hand has kept a constant connection with me since we sat down on the couch.

Cozy in a pair of his boxer shorts and an old Beacon U T-shirt, my legs are cuddled under the blanket as I take the last bite of pasta. “That recipe will get you laid,” I say, only partly teasing.

He chuckles, rubbing my leg. “Good to know.”

We’ve spent years apart, but it doesn’t feel that way. I feel twenty-one with him again, our whole lives still ahead of us. I’m grateful we rediscovered our love when we did.

When a commercial comes on, I finally tackle the issue on the tip of my tongue all night. “Did you pay for my medical school?”

“What?” His brows pinch, and he does a double take. “Who told you that?”

“Why do you think someone told me that? Does it matter? Is it true?” His eyes shift away from me, but this time, I crawl across the couch and plant myself on his lap. With my arms around him, I kiss him once again, and then say, “Your parents paid, but I know you made it happen. Safe Haven Trust . . .” I watch his reaction as guilt settles into his eyes. “Harbor. Very clever, by the way.”

His hand slides over my hip, holding me as if we spend every night like this, like time had no hold on us at all. He whispers, “How long have you known?”

“A few days.” I glance at his lips, a sudden wave of comfort washing over me, and the urge to kiss him growing again. “I don’t know how you pulled that off, Harbor, but for my own peace of mind, will you tell me how you did it?”

The game comes on again, but he mutes it. Rubbing circles over my hip, he says, “I asked my parents to give you the money they had set aside for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew I wouldn’t be able to live with the thought of you not achieving your dream.”

“But you traded your future for mine. You shouldn’t have done that.”

“That’s why I left.” He slides his hand up my arm and over my shoulder, coming to rest on the side of my neck. “You would have never let me.”

As I see the pain in his eyes as he tells me the truth, mine begin to water. “Not if I had a say.”

“I know. When my parents agreed, I made sure all the pieces were in place—”

His words come back again, and I say, “It was the perfect plan, and it worked.” Silence seeps in as we look into each other’s eyes. “Was the pain worth it to be here now?”