In the evenings I meet Oliver at his dorm and place my lips on each of his bruises. He watches with equal parts patience and awe and I relearn how to use magic. He’s uncomplaining as I spark flame after flame, lighting and extinguishing the lamp beside his bed. He lets me manipulate his fingers until I have enough finesse to drum them smoothly along his desk. I want to wrap him in blankets and swear to never allow harm to come to him again, but I don’t. I’m still learning what it means to love someone like I love him, but I think it means letting go of the big promises. Instead, I make him small ones. I will wake up each day and try to be a little better than the day before. I will tell him the truth, even when it is hard. I will trust him to make decisions for himself. I will give him the space to grow into the person he is becoming, and we will love each other through all the parts that still ache.

On our final night together in Paris he slips a small emerald band around my ring finger and whispers, “Eventually. Only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

It isn’t quite a proposal, but he smiles like wedding bells, and I want to be the kind of girl who deserves a forever with him.

My parents, Finn, even Mrs. Vykotsky made love sound like a curse, something to be defeated or ruined by. But with Oliver it’s so much simpler. Love is a relief.

Oliver, who reacts to any situation first with kindness and understanding, who is curious and humble. He sets down his book every time I speak and looks me in the eyes like he always cares what I have to say, even if he’s studying something important and I’m just informing him I’ve accidentally let my tea go cold. He’s the kind of person who brings me a cake with pink icing on my birthday because he remembered me liking a similar-looking cake five years before. He is careful and soft around the edges in all the places I still feel too reckless and sharp. But here’s how I know it’s him, it’ll be him forever; he has never once made me feel as if I am a difficult person to love.

And so I say yes. I will love him tomorrow and I will love him the day after that. He’s an easy boy to make promises to.

I trust we’ll figure out the rest in time.

He’ll join me in New York in August, but one month isn’t so long in the grand scheme of a lifetime together.

Maxine takes us to the docks, and waves goodbye, her hat swinging in her hand, as the ship pulls away from the port.

I miss her immediately.