Only One (The Reed Brothers 5.5)

When we get inside, I launch myself at him and wrap my arms around his neck. I kiss him. I kiss him like there will never be another tomorrow.

“How did you do all this?” I ask against his lips.

“I had some help from your mom.”

“Are you serious?”

“And your dad.”

I lay my ear over his heart, and listen to the beat of his heart. “He likes you, even if he won’t admit it.”

“There’s so much I need to tell you,” he rushes to say. “I rented my room to Jack, so between her and Malone, my bills all get paid. I just hope they can keep from killing one another.”

I’m so happy he’s here that I could just about burst. I want to find out so many things, like how he has managed to put all this together, and what happened between Amber and Seth after I left, and I’m really hoping someone finally kicked Dean-the-neighbor’s ass. But I can find all that out later. Right now, I just want to kiss him. And never stop.

Nick brushes my hair back from my face. “Carrie, I figured if I only had one last moment, only one, I wouldn’t want to waste it. I’d want to be with you. So here I am.” He shrugs.

“Well, I’m going to tell you how this year is going to go,” I say. I turn his face to me and look into his eyes. “We’re going to love each other like crazy. Then you’re going home with me for vacations, because Dad probably won’t have it any other way. Then in the summer, we can go to the beach house. And then, when we’re all done with school, we’re going to get great jobs and make some babies. And then we’ll take them to the beach house, where we’ll fly kites and walk the beach to look for shells. And if we have a daughter, I’ll take her to the lighthouse and lie with her under the shadow of it and talk.”

“That sounds like more than one year,” he says, but he’s nodding. “But I agree. I accept. I say yes. I want what you want. And I want to get you naked.”

I stop breathing. “Yes.”

“I need to run to my dorm and get some…things.” His face turns red.

“I’ll go with you.”

He grins and takes my hand. We open the door and look out on the railing. There’s a big yellow swallowtail fluttering its wings. I stare at it. “Look at that, Carrie,” he says.

“I see it.” I see her in all things. Everywhere. All the time. In the wind that blows, in the music on the radio, in the drops of rain that spatter on my windshield.

Because it’s not only one moment that defines a life. There are lots of moments, and I revel in them all.