how I got my first kiss from you, and, even if it wasn't yours, it's still my best.”

She leaned against the tree trunk for support, still holding his hands.

“I love how you snort when you laugh really hard, and you bend over with

your hands on your knees.”

“Oh, geez…”

“I love how the bridge of your nose wrinkles when you're angry, and I love

your feet.”

She looked down. “My feet?”

“Um, I just think you have nice feet.”

“Okay…”

“I love that you've always been beautiful to me no matter how old you are or

if you have braces or drive a VW Bug or slurp the bottom of your shake with your straw. I just…love you.”

She stared at his face. The breeze blew a lock of his hair.

She didn't know what to say. It was what she had always wanted, wasn't it?

“Peter, I…” She sighed, dropping her hands from his, searching his eyes.

“Why did you bring me here?”

He smiled. “Because I wanted to tell you something. Away from everyone

else. Just us.”

She swallowed. “What's that?”

“I know it was just high school. I know we were just kids. But I can't shake

the feeling that we missed out on something that could have been great, that maybe should have been great. But I'm not going to miss out again. And if you

do leave, if you go back to Chicago, that's fine. I'm going to follow you because

that's what love does. I finally— finally think I learned the place just doesn't matter. I mean, it's nice if you're sitting in a fortieth-story penthouse in downtown Chicago, but you can still be just as soul-punching lonely as a guy sitting in a one-bedroom apartment with a busted air conditioner in Golden Grove.”

Her eyes were hot, swimming. Yes, keep talking. Tell me what love is, Peter,

because I need to know, and I need it to be you.

“And I'm sorry, Kate. I should have said something sooner. I should have done something sooner. I should have been braver, I guess. But you left, and then Dad died, and I was tired of people I loved leaving. And I was afraid—I knew you were going to leave, too, and the only way to keep that from happening was to follow you.”

He stopped, his eyes not begging but strong, solid, a man.

She, on the other hand, had no words, and her eyes were now too wet to see

anything but his blurry, beautiful face.

“So, I'm going to follow you, Kate. And if you don't want me to you're going

to have to say 'Peter, don't follow me,' and slap me in the face and slash my tires or something because otherwise, I'm going to camp out on your doorstep.”

“I don't have a doorstep. I live in a high-rise building.”

“Fine, then I'll camp out in your lobby, or your vestibule, or whatever you have. And I'll make friends with all your neighbors and get them on my side until you see that we were meant to be together.” He stopped.

She wiped tears from her smile.

“Was that too much? 'Meant to be together'?” he said.

“It was absolutely scientifically perfect,” she said and launched herself at him.

Their kiss was warm and sparkly. She stood on her toes. She had a strange,

fleeting thought that she was going to want to do a lot of calf exercises in the future.

They parted, still embracing. He smelled clean and bright, like sunshine. His

arms were the safest, warmest place she'd ever been. She rested her head on his

shoulder.

“I still don't think I'm going to take the Dixon job.”

“I know,” she said, still nestled.

“But I can probably find something else. Or I'll see you on weekends. Or buy a helicopter and learn how to fly, I don't know yet.”

She pushed back, looked up. “You don't need to buy a helicopter, Peter. I think I'm going to quit my job.”

His face was a mixture of elation and concern. “What? Why?”

“I don't love it. Not like you love teaching. Like how you give up weekends

to chase lizards and mop floors just so you can help your kids learn.”

“It is pretty glamorous, I admit,” he said. “But I don't want you to just quit

your job. What would you do?”