“Okay, we need to stop with that, because I never had a Burning Man era. That was called being a supportive friend. But if you must know, I was reading a lot of really old poetry at the time.”

“You still read poetry.”

“I do.” He smiled. “I actually brought one of my favorite poetry books on the boat, I’ll have you know. I used to read it every night before bed.”

She met his eyes, thrilled with the beauty of the confession. “I love that.”

“Listen, sometimes you’re so desperate for someone that poetry is the only thing that can really match the moment.”

“Or opera,” she added, thinking back to her playlist.

“Or anime.” He laughed, and she playfully shoved his shoulder. Before she could pull her hand back, he took it in his and brought it to his lips for a soft, meaningful kiss.

After a moment, he looked up to meet her eyes, speaking slower than he had before. “Listen, my love, I should get back and help my mom. Are you okay to go back out there?”

Truthfully, she didn’t feel ready, but only because she felt like a circuit board with more electricity flowing through it than it was made to handle. It wasn’t normal to have this much beauty, this much love, this much abundance surrounding you at once, and her heart didn’t know how to take it. But she nodded anyway, because he deserved the version of her who rose to the occasion, who shared his sense of joyful duty to the people he loved. He stood, extending his hand to help her up, and she placed her palm securely in his to accept it.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror on the way out, a little redder in the cheeks but still lovely. And it occurred to her in that moment that he was right: it wasn’t a shame they had not been together all those years. It was a profound blessing that they came back together now, when they’d both had time to become the person the other deserved. This was the beginning of so many things, the first of so many feasts.

“Let’s do it,” she said, moving to walk beside him.

His hand slipped to the small of her back, guiding her forward. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

I would like to thank, as always, my dream team of creative women: Lauren, Stephanie, Kate, Mackenzie, and Alexa. Thank you to the brilliant Elizabeth Lennie for another perfect cover painting, which brought this story to life visually as no one else could have. Thank you to my cultural reader Tania Ravaei, who helped make Danial and his Iranian-American history so richly realized. And thank you, of course, to my darling husband, the one who makes everything possible, and everything worth doing.

About the Author

About the Author