After a short drive, we ride up to my apartment where I stop outside the door and turn to face her.

“Close your eyes.”

“What? Why?”

“I have a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?” she asks suspiciously. “What the hell can top what you just did?”

“Okay, it’s not going to top that. We talked about something very briefly once, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. How fun it would be. It’s stupid and silly and you don’t have to pretend to like it, okay?”

“Henry Dawson, you did not get a sex swing.”

I burst out laughing, rubbing her shoulders. “Not this time, no. But good to know where you stand on the matter.”

“Fine, I’ll close my eyes,” she relents. “But hurry up! The tacos are getting cold!”

I unlock the door and push it open, gently guiding Emma into the space and locking the door behind us. Sweeping a glance over the living area, I can tell the boys did good work.

“Okay, open up, honey.”

Her eyelashes flutter open and she gasps, nearly dropping the precious cargo she’s holding.

“Oh my God,” she starts, walking across the hardwood floor.

Fairy lights hang on the wall, twinkling in the moonlight pouring through the curtain-free windows. The couches usually taking up space in the room have been shoved to the side, making way for a large camping tent. It’s set up in the middle of the room, with dozens of pillows and blankets stacked inside. A plate of cookies and Zebra Cakes sit on top of the heap of fabric, with a jar of even more sunflowers adjacent to the sweet snacks. I’m pretty sure I’ve bought all the long-stemmed yellow flowers in the city for this woman, and it still isn’t enough. The television is turned on, paused on the opening credits for The Land Before Time.

I shift on my feet, nervously tapping my fingers on my thigh. “What do you think?”

Emma steps close to me, the tip of her shoes knocking against mine.

“September 27th,” she says.

“Pardon?”

“September 27th. It’s when you suggested a movie night. It’s when I first… when I first let myself imagine a life with you outside our phones.”

I huff out a strangled breath. “It’s the same day I imagined a life with you outside our phones. What have we been doing all these days and years without each other?”

She throws her arms around my shoulders, dinner dropping to the floor. I kick it away with my foot, picking her up and walking toward the floor-to-ceiling glass. Her legs bracket my hips and when I back her into the window, she gasps.

We’ve yet to kiss this evening, and as my arms rest on either side of her head, caging her in, I stare into her eyes.

“Henry.”

“You with me, Emma?”