I moved closer. On first glance, I’d thought it was new, but as I studied it, I notice little things. A small dent in the front bumper. Scratches in the red paint. A black mark across one of the tan headrests. It was used, for sure. But it didn’t matter. It was still boss, and mine. All mine.

I climbed in, still holding Gatsby, marveling at all of the mine-ness in front of me. That steering wheel? Mine. Those floor mats? Mine. The dangly little cinnamon-cookie air freshener that hung from the rear-view mirror? Also mine. My mouth wouldn’t close; the awe was just too great.

Laying Gatsby, open to my page, on the passenger seat, I wrapped my hands tight around the wheel. My father leaned in and handed me a key ring with a shiny key. I slid it into the ignition, then leaned back and stared. “Thank you,” I said. Then I noticed the stick shift, and a small part of me deflated. “But I can’t drive this.”

My mother motioned to the front of the garage. “We’ve hired an excellent teacher.”

I craned to see into the rear-view mirror as Declan came into view. He slid into the passenger’s side and leaned his elbows on the half door. “Can I have a ride?”

It all came to me right then. All the time he’d been gone? “Did you…?”

He nodded, opened the door, and slid inside, grinning. Suddenly, all was right with the world, and I had to wonder why I’d been so needlessly mopey for the past month.

He picked up my book. “Gatsby, huh? ‘So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “Did you help with this?”

My father said, “Let’s put it this way. A month ago, it was on blocks and hadn’t run in ten years.”

My jaw dropped. “You fixed it up? Without me knowing? How?”

My father saluted us, and my mother waved. They walked back into the house, leaving us alone. I looked at Declan, wanting to jump him again. He said, “Well, you knew something was up. Tell me you weren’t suspicious.”

“I was suspicious you’d found a new girlfriend,” I said, punching him. I squeezed my hands together in front of me in excitement. Then I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I can’t believe this.”

“Told you,” he said. “We’re forever. Now, do you want me to drive, or what?”

We’re forever. Of course we were. I found myself smiling, wondering how I could have ever doubted it. Doubted him. I took Gatsby from his hands and tossed it into the back seat. “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”