The future of our relationship was the one thing we didn’t discuss. It was clear neither of us knew what was going to happen, what life would look like from either side once she got on that plane. I certainly didn’t want to spend our last four weeks discussing scenarios and teary what-ifs. I wanted to hold her as close as possible, celebrating the time we had left.

But before I could even fully fill my lungs, we arrived at the finish line. Whitney told me she wanted to spend her last night with Emily, so the evening prior was ours. During the afternoon, I had Alfred drive us through the city, as though we were tourists, a last glimpse of our beautiful Boston. She clung to me in the backseat, my arm wrapped over her shoulders, as we passed landmarks she could grip in her memory as tightly as I was holding her. When she thought of home, I wanted her to remember it through my eyes, my descriptions, my voice.

He dropped us off at my condo for dinner. This wasn’t the first time I’d stood in my kitchen without the help of my walker, making something for us to eat. But it was the first time I’d ever attempted homemade sushi. When planning the final menu in my head, there was never a question of what it was going to be.

I spread out the rice, slicing the different fish, making a variety of rolls. Whitney sat at the island, watching me with a smile as I made a spread that we eventually ate on the balcony.

When she got up to get our bottle of wine from inside, I circled my hands around her thigh, stopping her from taking another step. I pressed my face into her navel, inhaling the scent of her skin.

Don’t go, I wanted to whisper.

But I stayed quiet, gazing up at that gorgeous face, hundreds of unspoken thoughts passing between us.

The impending uncertainty caused me to pull her closer, needing to feel the strength that had bonded us these last four months.

I couldn’t lift her into the air and carry her, hold her against a wall, or toss her onto a cushion—my back still too incredibly fragile. But I could clasp my fingers with hers and walk her into my room, turning when I reached the edge of the bed.

“I need you,” I whispered, devouring her lips.

She tugged my shirt over my head, dropping it to the floor, and I did the same with the small tank top she had on, our shorts and my boxer briefs following. I unhooked her bra and sat on the end of the bed to slip her panties down those stunning legs.

“Don’t move,” I said as she attempted to close the distance. “I want to look at you.”