I look over at the picture of her and the drawing of the flower in the vase. When did she draw this and when was the picture taken? When she wrote this? Before? After? Why am I obsessing over it so much? Just let it go.

“Baby, are you ready for this?” Micha asks as he loops his leather belt through the top of his worn jeans.

Tensing, I close the journal, noting that he hesitantly glances at it. “Yeah, as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“It’ll be fine.” He fastens his belt, then reaches for the cologne, glancing at the journal again as I climb off the bed. “Are you going to ask your dad about the journal?”

“Yeah, I guess now is as good a time as any.” I’m wearing a black and purple plaid shirt and jeans that are tucked into boots. I comb my fingers through my tangled hair and reach for my deodorant that’s in my duffel bag. “I just hope he doesn’t act all weird about it.”

Micha sets the cologne back down on the dresser beside a pile of his old guitar picks. “Why would he act weird about it?”

I shrug, removing the cap from my deodorant. “Because it has to do with my mom, and what if he wants to read it?”

“Then let him read it.”

I wipe some deodorant on my armpits and then toss it back into the bag. “Yeah, but it says stuff… about him… not nice stuff either, at least not great stuff about how she felt about marrying him.”

His throat bobs up and down as he swallows hard, raking his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t then.” He pulls open the top dresser drawer and begins digging through it like he’s looking for something when there are only a few old T-shirts in there.

I touch his arm lightly. “Micha?”

He stiffens under my touch. “Yeah.”

“I want to marry you more than I’ve wanted to do anything else in my life,” I say, turning him so that he’s facing me, even though he’s got his head tipped down. “And yes, I know that sounds super cheesy, but it’s true so…” I trail off as he leans in toward me.

“Even after everything you’ve been reading?” he asks, his hand cupping the side of my neck.

I nod and his mouth covers mine. I part my lips as his tongue devours me in a deep, passionate kiss, his fingers knotting through my hair, tugging at the roots, forcing my head back. When he pulls away he looks high on the kiss, eyes glazed, pupils wide, and I love him for it.