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I look up at him. “You had this made specially?”

“I think you’re pretty special Rocket.”

I shake my head in disbelief as I hold my wrist up and watch as the charm sparkles against the backdrop of the muted TV. “Thank you. It’s stunning.”

“Yeah, she is,” he whispers.

As I lean forward and kiss him, I notice his eyes are slightly glassy. “My turn,” I say, bouncing through to the living room and retrieving his gift from under the tree.

Looking down at the poorly wrapped gift in cheap blue paper, I know this is a fraction of the cost of mine and embarrassment overtakes me. I should’ve spent more, saved up for longer.

“This is actually really good,” he says, pointing to the plate of half-finished toast.

“Told you it was.”

Kneeling on the bed, I tentatively hand him the gift. “All I’m saying is it’s not in the same league as yours.”

“What were you just saying to me?”

“About it being from you?”

“Yeah,” he says, tearing it open in one motion. “Anything from you will always be my favorite possession.”

Flipping the frame over in his hands, he stares down at the picture. “Fuck, oh my…baby where did you find this?”

I feel the warmth spread across my cheeks. “Um, well, I’ve had it for a long time.”

His finger traces over the image of us both lying on Cocoa Beach. His youthful face wears a warm glow from the campfire only a few feet away. “We must be what, sixteen here.”

I shake my head. “Seventeen. It was the summer before we went to college. One of the last barbecues we had as friends.”

Zach held the camera up in the air, hovering it above us both. He’s laughing in the photo and smiling up at the lens, but I’m not. I’m staring off to the side. I remember it like yesterday. He took the photo before I realized, and when he asked me back then what I was looking at, I lied and said a shooting star above his head. Truth is, I was looking at him. I was always looking at him.

I open my mouth to tell him exactly that, that there was no shooting star that night, but I quickly close it. I’ve held onto this memory and picture for years, this little secret I’ve shared only with a teenage, and now adult, Luna.

Maybe one day I’ll tell him, but maybe I won’t.

Sometimes a woman likes to keep certain moments just to herself.

I lean across and kiss the underside of his jaw. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

EPILOGUE

EARLY FEBRUARY

LUNA

“Great job today, Luna. The students were really engaged.”

“Thank you.” I turn to Principal Stevens and shake his hand.

“I think you’ll fit in great here at Wakefield High. If that’s what you want, of course, we’ve been very impressed with your approach and resumé and would like to offer you the position.”

Trying not to leap into his arms because I’ve learned along the way that it’s not always appropriate, I shake his hand once more. “This school is absolutely where I want to be.”

“Excellent! Well, we’ll have all the necessary paperwork drawn up and sent across to you for review, but suffice it to say, welcome to Wakefield.”

“I can’t wait,” I reply, trying to keep my excitement under control.