"Ethan." I look up into his blue eyes. "You're that sure this is forever?"
"More."
My last bit of resistance melts. My entire heart melts. I slide my hand around his neck and press my body against his. "Say it again."
"Which part?"
"Give me a highlight reel."
He smiles. "I've been selfish. I've brought you into my life but it's been what works for me. I like you in my life, Vi, but I want to be in your life too. I want to do what works for you."
"I want that too."
"I love you." He presses his forehead against mine. "I love you more than I love my Les Paul."
"Is that even possible?"
"Yeah, it is."
"I love you too."
Then I kiss him like his lips are everything I want. Because, really, they are.
Epilogue
Ethan
It's a rainy, cold day, but you wouldn't know that from the warm yellow lights and the body heat in this amphitheater. I've played a lot of packed rooms in my life, but I've never been this excited.
Been in the crowd at a lot of shows, but this is my favorite by a landslide.
There's a long line of students in purple robes and caps, but it's still easy to pick out Violet. Her short strawberry blond hair catches all the light in the room. Her heeled boots peek out from under her robe.
She's getting her master's degree.
Then she's done with school.
It was hell touring without her by my side, wanting my arms around her, wanting her in my bunk every night. I missed her like I miss my guitar when it's getting restrung.
But it was heaven too, knowing I'd call her before my head hit the pillow. Most nights we were so tired we only managed to say good night, I love you, but that's more than enough.
I've been in New York since the tour ended. We've packed all of Violet's things and shipped most of them home.
She's back in southern California indefinitely.
She doesn't start her job until July.
That leaves us a month and a half together, to do whatever the fuck we want, wherever the fuck we want.
Have a lot of ideas about where and how I want to fuck Vi.
At the moment, I can't consider them in detail. Her parents are next to me and, somehow, they're even prouder of her than I am.
The dean calls her name. "Violet Valentine, Master’s in Mathematics."
Even from all the way up here, I can tell nerves are taking hold of her body. She moves across the stage slowly. Then she's shaking the dean's hand, taking her diploma, smiling as wide as she's ever smiled before.
We went through a hell of a lot of pain to get to this moment. We made a lot of mistakes, me especially.